


This Trick May Chance to Scathe You

by GalahadsGurl



Series: The Cahill Project [36]
Category: Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol (2011), S.W.A.T. (2003), Star-Crossed (TV 2014), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Bourne Legacy (2012), The Unusuals
Genre: F/M, If Cap will be disappointed don't do it, In which Jeremy Renner's characters are The Brothers Grimm, M/M, Multi, Russian-speaking character, The Brothers Grimm are Clones, The Cahill Project
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-15
Updated: 2014-10-24
Packaged: 2018-02-17 12:02:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 33,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2308985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalahadsGurl/pseuds/GalahadsGurl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twelve years ago, the Chitauri attacked. </p>
<p>Ten years ago, a space ship crashed into Edendale, Lousiana, with a peaceful people aboard . . . looking for a new home. Rounded up and isolated in a glorified prison called The Sector, they have lived separate from mankind. </p>
<p>It's 2024, and the Grimms are taking over Sector. They bring their sympathies, their ideals . . . and their children. And if there is one thing that Edendale isn't ready for, it's the Children. </p>
<p>Regardless of what else happens in Edendale, with the Trio of Terror in town . . . things are about to get interesting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Arrival Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BairnSidhe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BairnSidhe/gifts), [Caitriona_3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caitriona_3/gifts), [AlekWalker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlekWalker/gifts), [Julorean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Julorean/gifts), [Amerou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amerou/gifts).



> So this idea consumed me and wouldn't let me go until I wrote it all down. 
> 
> This takes place about 15 years from where we are in the main UALP. So there will be a lot of secrets told and answers to questions I have been answered frequently. I hope you enjoy this sequel, side-story. I do have a specific timeline for this, and it is nowhere as expansive as the UALP, so I do intend to write them both concurrently. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it. As always, translations are at the end.

[](http://s66.photobucket.com/user/GalahadsGurl/media/THE%20UALP/TrioofTerror.jpg.html)

Chapter One: Arrival Day

“So . . . we're going to live here then . . . is that what we've decided?” came the soft Russian tones of the woman walking along at his left, brunette curls hidden under a hood. 

Dark gray eyes were smiling, despite the emotionless set of his features. Reaching out to link their fingers in an uncharacteristic display of public affection, he lifted the entwined hands to his lips to place a reverent kiss to the back. “What do you think? Would the girls be okay with it?”

Her laughter was low, even as it drifted through the makeshift marketplace, her head tilting back and her features coming briefly into perfect view. “Look at this place, Misha . . . it would be rather like having their own private playground. So many roofs to jump off of and a dozen places to hide their flag when they play 'capture the flag' with their cousins. Not to mention, Clint and Bucky . . . for some reason, I can see those two idiots leading the race over the rooftops.”

“These **are** shipping containers . . . running over them is going to make a hell of a racket for whoever is living inside of them.”

“Eh . . . details,” she agreed with a careless shrug and a broad grin. “Not to mention, I think this place would be good for Trystan. It's not easy being the only child of your kind. The Sector school here would be filled with other children who have just as hard a time as he does amongst human companionship.”

Nodding slowly, he allowed their hands to swing casually back and forth between them as they continued making their ways through the area. His eyes were quicksilver, racing through colors in time with the thoughts she could see racing through them; they were not officially supposed to take command of the so-called Sector until tomorrow, but General David Peron – Will's old friend and the husband of Marina's good friend, Denise – had made the orders official as of 1200 that very day. That didn't mean, however, that her adored and adoring lover wasn't already taking in the scope of the project and already planning the changes he was going to instigate. When Will spoke again, she blinked in surprise, “What about the boys?”

Giving him a fond smile, she nudged his shoulder lightly with her own, teasing, “They will follow you as they always have. You know that, Mishka.”

Pausing next to a stand filled with gorgeous handmade jewelry, Will gestured toward a uniquely made necklace hanging from a makeshift stand. “May I?” he asked in unaccented and nearly flawless Sondiv. 

Marina only rolled her eyes; of course her lover would already be nearly fluent in the Atrian language. The Russian herself had studied hard to learn the language when the two had learned about their coming assignment but though she could understand what she was being told, her fluency was still heavily accented and spotty at best. Will, on the other hand, had barely picked up a book about the language and was already fluent. His skill in linguistics, and his ease with language, was legendary throughout both the intelligence **and** the military intelligence spheres; in fact, that skill was in large part the reason for their current posting as the Sector's new commandants. 

Watching Will engage the woman about the necklace, Marina allowed her mind to wander. Ten years ago, a ship had crash landed outside of tiny Edendale, Louisiana, carrying an alien race called the Atrians. Unlike the Chitauri, they were a peaceful people trying to escape their dying planet. Regrettably, the Loki-led Chitauri invasion was only two years gone and still fresh in the human mindset. As a result, there was a fierce battle and a lot of people on both sides died. Once the battle was over, the surviving Atrians were rounded up and placed into what the military referred to as the Sector. It was basically a prison, with curfews, armed guards and a host of laws that left the Atrians with little freedoms and no interaction with the world outside of its borders. 

That was ten years ago and in a week, the government would be making a push for integration, due in large part to the disappointment expressed by their much-beloved hero, Captain America. Steve Rogers was Will's uncle in law – and frankly, that idea never got any less funny – and had been the true push behind the integration program and it was at his insistence that integration would begin with the introduction of seven Atrian teenagers into Marshall High School, the human school outside of the Sector. Will, as one of the only Army officers with alien experience – thanks to Max and his Antarians, and his attendance at the Asgard wedding of Jane Foster to the Asgardian Prince, Thor – was chosen to be the commander in charge of the Sector while the initiative was being undertaken. All in all, if the Colonel had his way, integration would be an unequivocal success. 

Turning back at the sound of her name, she hummed in the back of her throat. And came face to face with an altercation between a pair of Atrians and a small trio of the guards that currently ran roughshod through the Sector. Seeing one of the guards lift his gun and take aim, Marina shoved Will to the ground and lunged, shouting, “Look out!”

The pain was sharp and sudden, catching her high in the chest and the momentum of the bullet spinning her in place before she fell in what felt like slow motion to the filthy concrete underfoot. Her hood fell backwards and, through the sound of pain, she could hear the sound of an Atrian woman commenting, “That human just saved Nox!”

The familiar touch of her lover's hands turning her carefully onto her side caused her to tense in pain, even as she followed the motion blindly. “Marina!” he demanded, sounding panicked; obviously he had been trying to get her attention at least for a little while. 

“I'm all right . . . there's an exit wound,” she insisted, groaning as she used her good arm to hug the wounded one to her chest. 

“What the hell are you talking about!?” he demanded in frantic Russian, hands flashing over the injury. 

“It was a through and through . . . I can feel the blood running down my back.” Groaning as she tried to shove herself to a sitting position, she subsided at the stabbing pain that ricocheted along the length of her collarbone. “ _Vot der'mo_!” she hissed, dropping her head back in agony. 

“What's wrong?” he asked, reaching up to trigger the small comm resting in his ear; the comms Jason had made for the fucked up zombie apocalypse in Georgia had come along way since their first, haphazard incarnation and with a range of over a mile and an interior satellite hook-up, it was common for the Grimms to wear them constantly. 

Reaching out slowly to pet carefully along his exposed forearm, she confessed, “I think the bullet fractured my collarbone.”

“ _Chert voz'mi_ ,” he swore viciously, nearly barking into the comm as their medic's voice came through the comm calmly. “Keller.”

“Vincent . . . where the hell are you?”

“At the gate. Why? What happened?”

“Marina's been shot . . . get the fuck in here,” he ordered briskly, ripping a length from the bottom of his shirt and fashioning a sloppy sling to hold her arm immobile for a moment. “Is my brother with you?”

Vincent's tone was dry as he remarked, “Which one?”

“Very funny! Aaron!”

“Yeah Will?”

“Call everybody . . . get the Misfits here . . . I am officially done with this bullshit.”

Jason's voice was soothing as he broke into the conversation, arguing lightly, “You're not supposed to take command until tomorrow, Will.”

“But my orders gave me oversight as of this morning. So fuck tomorrow . . . I'm doing it now. Vincent . . . I'm not kidding . . . move your ass.”

“On my way,” he agreed, only moments before a roar ripped through the air and the loud clamoring of feet running over the tops of the metal containers filled the area. 

When Vincent dropped from the roofs, still in full out Beast-mode, the rest of the SEU guards back-stepped in shock. There was a moment and a deep breath from the healer, before in the Beast's place was the mild-mannered, if hot-tempered, Dr. Vincent Keller, Specialist United States Army, once again. Setting his bag next to him, the young doctor got to work, nodding at Will as he promised, “It's a clean wound . . . she'll be all right.”

Sighing in relief, Will leaned and pressed a sharp kiss to his partner's lips, vowing, “We are going to have a conversation about your habit of leaping in front of bullets.”

She grinned up at him, pain tilting the corners a little oddly, as she teased, “Pot, meet kettle.”

Glaring at her fondly, he growled, “Ha ha . . . you're hilarious.”

Winking, she hissed as Vincent shifted her slightly to get at the wound on her back. It was probably a moment later than Bucky dropped from the rooftops next, the homicidal expression that his boyfriend fondly referred to as the Winter's Soldier's “murder face” twisting his features. Combined with Will's own resting face and the “I Am Very Disappointed” face that Steve was going to be making when he showed up . . . frankly, Will was going to have his hands full trying to manage the mass panic. “ _Uchenny_!” he cried, seeing her lying on the concrete between the other two men.

“I'm all right, _Zima_ . . . don't kill anyone,” she scolded, reaching out a hand to squeeze the hand he offered her. 

Setting a hand on Bucky's shoulder, Will squeezed hard enough to draw the former assassin's attention. “I need to do some damage control . . . stay with her?”

Bucky nodded in agreement, “Always.”

“Thank you.”

Leaping up, Will strode towards the shocked guard who had fired the gun, holding out one hand. “Give it me,” he ordered, accepting the weapon briskly as it was offered. Hands flashing, he chambered a round and then leaped onto the table where the initial trouble had started. His boot crushed down on the half-assembled assault rifle there, his weight easily smashing it into unusable bits. Lifting the weapon into the air, he fired off three shots straight up and, after the startled screams had faded, had the immediate attention of the entire Sector. “My name is Colonel William Grimm . . . and as of right now . . . I am in command of Sector.”

One of the young guards scoffed, demanding, “On whose authority?”

Pulling his orders from his cargo pocket, Will unfolded the paperwork and held it up, the large seal held by the Department of Homeland Security clearly visible at the top, as well as the smaller seals representing the Army and the Department of Defense. “You tell me, asshole. What's your name?” he asked, eyes colorless as he growled. 

The young man gulped as he realized what he had just done, announcing timidly, “Timmerman . . . Markus Timmerman.”

“Well, Mr. Timmerman . . . welcome to unemployment. Get out. Leave your uniform, your weapon, and your credentials at the gate . . . I'm sure you can figure out who to leave them with . . . my brothers are pretty hard to miss. Don't come back . . .” here the sneer in his tone was audible as he continued, “your services are no longer required at Sector.” 

Turning away, he instantly dismissed the idiot as unimportant, he raised his voice to make himself heard. “As of this moment, there are going to be a lot of changes at Sector, all of them for the betterment of the Atrians who are interred here. You will have access to better clothing, better food, better teachers for your children. For those of you whose homes are in disrepair, we will arrange for the maintenance to update them or the materials to replace them altogether.” 

Looking around, he caught and held the eyes of every Atrian currently gathered in the marketplace. “The search and seizures you are subjected to without cause . . . will stop. Detainment without adequate proof or just cause . . . will stop. I will personally be going through the records of those incarcerated in the Crate . . . anyone who is there wrongly or who has served their reasonable sentence, will be returned to their families. If you have a complaint against a guard . . . I want to know about it. If you are accosted by one of those fucking Red Hawks yelling and protesting at the gates . . . I want to know about it. If you have a concern about anything . . . I want to know about it. If your children are sick, or your spouse is unable to work, or you are scared for whatever reason . . . I truly do want to know about it. 

“The SEU is no longer in charge and the Red Hawks cannot touch you here . . . I will not tolerate anything but perfect justice within these walls . . . I am your advocate, now and forever.” Twisting slightly, he pointed in the direction of a series of containers that were in the process of being erected near the gate, “My family and I will be living among you, here in Sector. Me and my partner . . . our twin daughters . . . our son . . . my brothers and sisters-in-law . . . their children . . . my baby sister, my father, my step-mother . . . my aunt, my uncle . . . extended family, bound by love if not by blood . . . all of us will be here, to listen to whatever complaints or concerns you have. _WE_ are taking over . . . and I promise you, it will get better here. Your situations will improve and I will do my damnedest to guarantee the success of the integration program. You have my word . . . and a Grimm does not ever break his word.”

There was a series of scattered cheers from some of the younger Atrians, but Will ignored them in favor of glaring at the guards who were standing on the catwalks overhead and the rooftop passageways, gawking at him in shock. “As for the SEU guards, there will be a mandatory assembly tomorrow morning at 0600 . . . if you are not in attendance, consider your employment terminated. Until then, you are all dismissed from service for the evening . . . my brothers and I will take over for the interim.”

One of the men shouted from his place out of sight, “Sector is huge . . .”

Will's grin was sly as he interrupted, “And so is my family. I assure you, there are more than enough of us to be able to handle Sector for one night.”

Almost simultaneously, Hansel Kuhn and five of his seven remaining sons dropped loudly from the uppermost rooftops, straightening from their crouches and coming into the full views of everyone in attendance. Except for Doyle's dark hair, each of the new arrivals was identical to Will, and Marina wasn't the only one who heard the murmur of “The Cahills” ripple through the assembled guards. Grimacing at the name and cursing the intel that was revealed during the HYDRA take down at S.H.I.E.L.D. not for the first time, she started to force herself to her feet. Recognizing the look on her face, Bucky only sighed and helped keep her steady as she tilted her face into the light and shouted, “It's Grimm . . . Grimm is the name they chose and Grimm is the name you will call them . . . or you will answer to me. Do I make myself clear?”

Another voice, also out of sight, sneered, “And who the fuck are you?”

Her lips curled as she purred, “They call me _Gadyuka_. And I am **very** good at what I do. And what I do . . . is kill. Test me at your own peril . . . I assure you, I am not nearly as forgiving as my lover.” Smirking, she shrugged with her uninjured shoulder, “Not that Misha is particularly forgiving.”

Will's jaw hardened as he ordered, “Company is dismissed! Get the hell out!” Glancing down at his watch, he grimaced as he noticed the time, “Regrettably, there is little that I can do about the curfew for the moment. I have a meeting with my superiors about it tomorrow morning at ten o'clock, but in the meantime, curfew stands. It is currently fifteen minutes till . . . please, return to your homes . . . anyone with concerns is more than welcome to come and visit me at my office tomorrow afternoon. I will be available to anyone.” 

One elderly Atrian woman, with a young child clinging to her roughly patched skirt, took a single step forward as she inquired, “Colonel, please, did you mean what you said . . . about the Crate?”

Jumping from the table, he strode to her side and placed a tender hand on her shoulder. “Tell me their name . . . and I will do what I can for them.”

The little girl spoke up, speaking through a fall of gorgeous blond curls, “They took my mommy away last week . . . can you bring her home now? I miss her.”

Crouching in front of her, Will gave her a small smile as he brushed the curls back behind her ear just as he used to do to his own Katenka, as he vowed, “I will. I promise.”

The grin the child gave him was radiant, and he nodded in response to her grandmother's effusive thanks. Addressing the child, he tapped her nose lightly as he admonished fondly, “Mind your grandmother, _malyutka_ . . . your mother should be home with you very soon.” Turning back to the old woman, he asked kindly, “What is her mother's name?”

“Miriam . . . they took her and all they would tell me is that she was being arrested as a Trag . . . the child's father is dead and Miriam is all she has left. Miriam is a good woman, she's no Trag. You have my word, Colonel.”

Smiling, he squeezed her shoulder, “I believe you. I will definitely look into her case and I will get her home to you and your granddaughter as soon as I am able.”

“Thank you, Colonel. You are a Saint.”

“No . . . but I do hope I can someday be called a good man. Quickly, to your home . . . curfew starts soon.” Looking up, he gestured towards Aaron, “Aaron, would you mind escorting these two home? It's been a long day, I'm sure, and this little one looks in need of a good, long nap.”

Aaron nodded silently, jumping from the rooftops and landing easily on the balls of his feet. Crouching in front of the little girl, he wrinkled his nose at her as he asked teasingly, “You ever had a piggyback ride?”

The way the girl's eyes lit up made both brothers' day and Aaron dropped into a crouch, allowing the girl to clamber onto his back. “Hold on . . . it could get a little bumpy back there.” Scooping the grandmother up into his arms, he took off to the sound of the old woman's laughter and the child's joyful giggles. 

Will remained where he was left for a moment, watching the marketplace clear out before returning to stand beside his partner once more. Bucky released her elbow, allowing Will to take over. “Orders, Will?”

“Jason, can you set up an electric perimeter?”

The middle brother's face twisted as he scoffed, “I am insulted you even found the need to ask me that.” Smirking at the roll of his older brother's eyes, he asked, “You want the alert to go to your phone?”

“Yeah. In the meantime, usual shifts for the watch. As for the rest of us, our new homes are bare and without furniture for the moment, but I'm pretty sure we've all slept on worse.”

The grins and nods were unanimous all around, before they dispersed and left Jason with Clint and Bucky for the first watch. When Aaron was done, he would join the threesome for the first four hours before Brian, Hansel and Doyle would take second watch, with Will and Marina taking the third and last watch of the evening. By that point, it would be time to get ready for the morning assembly . . . and the legendary Captain America would be in attendance to shame and embarrass the guards into compliance. Say what you wanted about the former WWII soldier, he had a knack for kicking people's asses into shape with only a look. Clint called it Steve's “I Am Very Disappointed” face, and everyone he turned it on, fell victim to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations: 
> 
> (R) Vot der'mo - oh shit  
> (R) chert voz'mi - fuck me  
> (R) Uchenny - student, scholar (Bucky Barnes was Marina's mentor/trainer while they were both in the Red Room)  
> (R) Zima - winter (one of Marina's nicknames for the man who is one of her oldest friends)  
> (R) Gadyuka - Viper (Marina's call sign assigned to her by the _Akademiya_ and the _Krasnaya Komnata_   
>  (R) Misha/Mishka - a diminutive of Michael/Mikhail (Will's middle name is Michael; Marina's most common nickname for her lover)


	2. Fall In Or Drum Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad about the response to this fic. At present, I have about fifty pages written, but I am trying to finish a major essay as well as finish the next chapter in the main UALP. So at this point, following this chapter, I will only be posting every other day. I hope this is okay. 
> 
> Enjoy! Translations at the end as always!

[](http://s66.photobucket.com/user/GalahadsGurl/media/THE%20UALP/TrioofTerror.jpg.html)

Chapter Two: Fall In or Drum Out

The next morning arrived much sooner than should have been allowed, and Will was settling his uniform tie properly when the sounds of a vintage Harley Davidson roared through the air. Grinning at Marina, where she was fussing at the straps of her sling, he announced, “Cap and Aunt Gret are here.”

“Good . . . some of these idiots could use a little captainly intervention. Frankly, I'm looking forward to the looks of 'I fucked up' when he gives them 'The Look'.”

“Feeling vindictive this morning, are we?”

“Integration starts in a week, Misha. We have a hell of a hill to climb before we're even ready to start,” the Russian reminded him with a fond frown.

“We'll be ready. Darcy wants to talk to us about something after the assembly and before our meeting with Nox and his wife. It sounded important.”

Humming in agreement, Marina's eyebrows furrowed as she considered it. “Between Darcy and Rene, we have all the political activism we need on the side of the Atrians. Rene's little society is going to be trickling in over the next few days, with Rene and Dacia arriving at some point this afternoon.” Dropping onto the bed, she sighed with a frown as she announced, “Sam called . . .”

Knowing how dearly Marina loved the sunny haired former agent and current SRU constable, Will took a seat next to her and asked gently, “You look upset . . . Is he okay? Is he not coming?”

“No, he's coming. He's trying to get some distance from Jules, though he's not happy about having to leave Sadie behind. He and Jules are fighting again . . . I just don't get it. I've seen them together; they are desperately in love with each other, but sometimes, they just can't seem to get along. I swear they've been separated more than they've been together during the course of their marriage.”

“Maybe a little distance is what the doctor ordered. It sounds like the both of them just need to take some time and reevaluate. There's no reason they can't make it work if they both don't want to.” Nudging her uninjured shoulder lightly, he reminded her, “After all, they do keep going back to each other. They just . . . don't address the problem when they do, so it just gets bigger. We knew this was going to happen, after what happened when she got shot.”

“I know . . . I just had hoped I was going to be wrong. I really wanted him to be happy.”

Kissing her temple, he prodded lightly, “Have you heard from Deeks and Kensi?”

“They're coming . . . they should be here early tomorrow morning. Marty has decided to leave the LAPD, and Kensi is no longer happy about being stuck at a desk due to her injury all those years ago. They're looking for a new start . . . I'm pretty sure they'll both find one here.”

“What about Carol and Daryl?” 

“They're coming too, but Sophia is staying in New York. She's eyebrows deep into her graduate program at NYU . . . can you believe it? She's almost 25 years old.”

“Wow . . . time flies.”

Grinning, she agreed, “Indeed.” Glancing at her lover, she teased, “And what about Lucky?”

Smirking, Will teased back, “What about him?”

Rolling her eyes, she punched him lightly in the shoulder. “Be serious, Misha . . . I already know the little troublemaker called you. Is Owen coming or not?”

“He is . . . he is in fact already here.” 

Cocking her head in surprise, she asked, “When did he get here?”

“Last night . . . he sent me a text at 2200 last night that said, 'Nice speech'.” Rolling his eyes, he let out a soft snort of laughter. “Little fucker.”

Giggling, Marina teased, “He's your best friend, and quite frankly, you wouldn't know what to do with yourself without him.”

Pushing himself to his feet, he scolded, “That is absolutely NOT the point, Marina Ivanovna Petrovka.”

“Getting into Maria's habit of all three names now?” she laughed, wrinkling her nose at him. “I must be in trouble then.” Walking two fingers up the neat lines of his uniform, she purred seductively, “Are you going to spank me, Colonel?”

Growling low in his throat, the man dragged her into him and kissed her firmly on the mouth, one hand landing on her backside with a muffled _smack!_ “Behave yourself, Major. And we will come back to that little reaction a little later.”

Those pretty hot chocolate eyes rolled backwards in response to the delicious pain, as she agreed submissively, “Yes sir.”

Just then there was a tentative knock at the door and Bucky's voice rumbled through the door, “Steve and Gretel are downstairs. You two decent yet?”

Kissing his partner again, Will called back, “Yeah, we're coming.”

Linking hands together, they left their room and moved towards the area that would be the family common area, not unlike their common room back at Avengers Tower. The Star Spangled Man was attired in his full stealth uniform sans helmet, his shield strapped over his back as was his norm. As for the German huntress, she was attired in the outfit she usually wore when the sibling witch hunters went on a hunt. Either way, they were an impressive pair . . . and the uniform meant that no one would be able to mistake Steve for anyone other than the legendary Captain America. “Hey Cap, thanks for coming.”

Gretel grinned wickedly as she ruffled her husband's hair, teasing him fondly, “He says he is making a statement.”

Steve gave her a narrow eyed look, even as his lips twitched into an unwilling smile. “I didn't say that.”

“But hyu implied it,” she sing-songed, going up to press a quick kiss to his lips. 

Interrupting before Gretel could continue her teasing – if there was anything his aunt enjoyed more than teasing her husband, Will had yet to figure it out – the Colonel spoke up, “Morning assembly is at 0600. I think I want you out of sight until after the roll call is taken. Shock the hell out of the little _lokhi_ when you step out into the shadows.”

Smiling at the superior officer, Steve laughed, “You **can** swear in front of me, Will . . . really, I'm sure I heard worse during the war. Hell, I'm sure I **said** worse during the war.”

“And I'm sure that me swearing within a hundred miles of that uniform is a felony,” he quipped back with a grin. “At least if I swear in Russian, you can honestly say you have no idea what I said.”

Darcy spoke up from where she was sitting on the Bucky's lap, her feet in Clint's, her body just now starting to round out beautifully with pregnancy. “Do you guys have time to talk for a minute?”

Will glanced at his watch, nodding slowly as he calculated the time. “I've got a half an hour until the assembly.” Grabbing a chair, he swung it around and straddled the back as Marina leaned up against the table behind him. “Let's hear this idea you wanted to talk to me about.”

Glancing at her boyfriends and longtime partners, Darcy took strength in their silent encouragements, before speaking up, “Have you guys considered taking a hostage from the Atrians?”

“A hostage?” Marina asked in surprise, blinking at the term. 

“Well, I guess in this instance it would be more like a foster?” Waving away her rambling thoughts, she continued, “In the Middle Ages, overlords would take the oldest sons of their vassals as hostages, as foster sons, to ensure the compliance and the obedience of their vassals. The boys weren't mistreated, they weren't prisoners, and they were treated with all the deference that their positions in their father's households entitled them to. But they were a stick with which to beat their fathers, should their fathers prove . . . uncooperative in any of the lord's ventures.”

“We're trying to help the Atrians.”

“And what about the Trags? I get the feeling that no matter what you do, the Trags are still going to think that we humans are a worthless species and they're going to stop at nothing to wipe us off the face of the earth.”

Aaron scoffed lightly from where he leaned against the back of his wife's chair, the muscles in his arms bunching involuntarily. “That could take a while; human outnumber the Atrians about a 1,000 to one. And that's just Stateside . . . we're not even talking about the global community.”

Marta rolled her eyes as she soothed, “That's what we think. Just because these are the only ones here, doesn't mean that there aren't still more out there, Aaron.”

Nodding in agreement to the point the virologist made, Will turned back to his sister-in-law . . . irregardless of the fact that there had never and would never be a proper wedding. “So what are you suggesting, Darce?”

“That you take a hostage. You said that Nox is the leader here, right? The _Iksen_ . . . kinda like their king? And from what I've read about the political situation here, he's also a member of the ruling tribe among the Atrians, the _Zwahan_. By all the reports, the Trags respect him, even if they don't agree with his teachings. They have no intention of defying him, for as long as he is in power.” Taking a deep breath, Darcy turned a shaky smile onto Bucky as he brushed his metal fingers down the curve of her elbow, before plunging forward, “Nox has two children. And those two children are his direct heirs to the role of the _Iksen_ , with his son first in line and his daughter second.” 

“Okay, I think I follow you. You think I should take his daughter as a hostage.”

“No . . . his son, Roman. By all reports, Sophia is young and she's not ready to rule. If something was to happen to both her father and her brother, there would be civil war. The Trags would never let anything happen to Roman . . . not if Sophia was their only other option.”

Will's eyes narrowed as he considered the suggestion, before Marina glanced down at her watch. “It's ten till . . . we should get downstairs. The last thing we want is to be late.”

Nodding slowly, the Colonel stood and crossed to Darcy. Squeezing the young woman's shoulder, he smiled, “Thank you, Darce . . . I'll figure out how to take it forward from here.”

“You're welcome,” she agreed with a wide grin, as the foursome turned and left the new family home. 

Clint grinned at her, joking fondly, “Let me guess . . . you got the idea from Girl Genius.”

“ **ALL** of my best ideas come from Girl Genius,” she agreed with a sly wink. “What works for Klaus, HAS to work for the Colonel. For one thing, Will is smarter and two, Will is smarter.”

Bucky grinned as Clint laughed, ocean blue eyes twinkled as he agreed, “No argument here.”

It wasn't long before the two Sector commanders were standing off to the side of the stage, watching the grunts with the Sector Enforcement Unit – the SEU – line up for that morning's assembly. They were clustered together, talking amongst themselves and Marina's mouth twisted at the obvious lack of discipline and the blatant disrespect for the reason behind the assembly that morning. Glancing at Will, she took in the grim set to his features and straightened her skirt with her good hand before stripping her sling and tossing it off to the side. One of Will's eyebrows cocked upwards as he scolded, “Disobeying doctor's orders, are we now?”

Narrowing her eyes at him, she snarked back, “Do you really want to have this argument with me, Mr. I Refused to Wear My Sling After My Shoulder Was So Badly Dislocated After Cairo That I Was Looking At Possibly Being Forced to Retire?”

Smirking, he teased, “You've been holding on to that one for awhile, haven't you?”

Marina's lips only compressed further, and her eyes narrowed that little bit more. Biting on the inside of his lip, he changed tactics and looped his arms around her waist, insisting, “I love you, _samaya malen'kaya_.”

Rolling her eyes, she smacked lightly at his shoulder as she taunted in reply, “That's because you are a smart man. Now leave me alone . . . I have work to do.”

The Russian practically sashayed onto the stage, calling out in her best Lt Colonel Petrovka bark, “Atten-HUT! Officer on DECK!!”

If she had been less than impressed by the discipline initially, she was even less impressed now. They formed lines, but they were sloppy and lazy and if that was their idea of standing at “attention”, she was really worried about seeing what they thought “at ease” meant. There was lightning in her eyes as she forced herself ramrod straight and barked again, “Maybe you idiots didn't hear me . . . I said, ATTEN-HUT!”

A couple of them attempted to pull themselves into something more acceptable, and Marina took a moment to memorize each of their faces before jumping lightly from the stage and starting to literally punch people in the spines to jolt them upwards as she walked along the rows. All the while, she was speaking in a loud tone, to make sure that everyone heard her, “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Lt. Colonel Marina Petrovka . . . and I am going to punch every single fucking one of you in the spine, until I get what I consider to be an acceptable form of attention.” 

It was about then, that the men in the rows further back could see her literally carrying out her threat and began scrambling to make a concentrated effort. She had gotten through two rows, before seeing that the rest were forcing themselves into some semblance of order. Striding back towards the stage, she took a hopping leap onto the stage and turned back to face the group. Putting her hands behind her back, she took in the assembly with shrewd, disapproving eyes. “Straighten up those lines . . . since when is an ellipse a one-hundred and eighty degree angle?” she ordered, watching as they shuffled themselves into position. 

Barking orders one after the other, she watched as they maneuvered themselves reluctantly into at least a passable attempt. “Let's start again, shall we?” Dropping into rest, she barked, “Atten-HUT! Officer on DECK!” 

As one, the entire group jolted back into attention and Marina nodded briskly in semi-approval. “Better . . . still shit . . . but better. We'll work on it . . . and if I have to bruise every single one of you until I get the results I want, make no mistake that I will take great pleasure in doing so.” Pacing back and forth across the stage, she watched for any of them to relax into rest and then barked again, “Did I tell you that you could be at ease!? Straighten up!” 

For a long time, she simply paced back and forth, watching them stand in silent attention, before calling out, “At ease! As I said, my name is Lt. Colonel Marina Petrovka. As of right now, I am one of two gods here! If I say 'jump', I mean it. Don't ask me how high, don't tell me no, don't even think . . . just fucking jump. I have no tolerance for bullshit and even less tolerance for stupid, and frankly . . . I have no concerns about drumming the lot of you out of Sector with little more than a kick in the pants and a 'there's the door'. Do I make myself clear!?” 

“Yes ma'am!” came the resounding call in reply. 

“I said, **do I make myself clear**!?” she bellowed, earning a proper shout of “ **Ma'am, yes, ma'am!** ”

“Good! Then without further ado, I present to you your new commander, Colonel William Michael Grimm, Special Operations, United States Army. Atten-HUT!” she barked, turning to face her partner with ramrod precision, her hand to her forehead in a proper salute. 

Will's lips twisted in a small smile, even as he returned the gesture and insisted, “At ease, Colonel Petrovka.” Nodding, she dropping into rest and turned sharply on her heel to face the assembly again, barking out, “Company . . . SALUTE!” 

Both officers rolled their eyes as they watched the lazy gestures, most of them not even waiting for Will's return gesture before dropping their hands as was considered acceptable. Standing with his hands clasped behind his back for a moment, Will watched the guards in complete silence. The minutes dragged on and still he said nothing, his eyes moving slowly over each face as he committed them each to memory. When he finally spoke, his tone was calm and easy as he insisted, “That was the most disgraceful example of discipline I have ever seen. And I have been a member of the United States Army, and holding an officer's commission, for the last 40 years. Considering the ages stamped on some of your faces, I was ordering men into kill zones and watching them die since before half of you were ever born.” 

Marina bit down on her smirk as she watched some of the younger ones start to fidget; Will's resting face was not for the faint of heart. That face combined with the cool but lethal tone he was using always made people shit themselves in fear of him. “My name is Colonel Grimm . . . you can call me 'Sir'. Lt. Colonel Petrovka is my right hand . . . and my left. Any order she gives you, you can assume comes directly from me. Considering the display before me, I'm not even willing to be half as kind as she is. She's willing to give the whole lot of you a chance. Frankly, I'm of the opinion that I can fire all of you right now and Sector wouldn't miss you. Bullies . . . the lot of you.”

A grumble of protest began to ripple and Will finally raised his voice as he barked, “Shut up!”

The effect was instantaneous, and the Russian swore she could have heard a pin drop in the instant silence, a real smirk curving her lips as she allowed herself to enjoy her lover's furious vengeance. “Oh yeah . . . I know all about the bogus bullshit that goes on around here. The kinds of bullshit that your last commander turned a blind eye to, because he was a Red Hawk and he would have been perfectly happy wiping the Atrians from the face of the planet.” Colorless eyes swept the crowd as he announced, “And now you know why he was replaced. So let's get square with one another. I am done with all of it. The searches . . . the arrests . . . the rapes . . . the beatings . . . all of it. I am in charge now, and I can assure you . . . I will **not** be turning a blind eye.

“From now on, all searches must be authorized through me. I don't care what reasons you think you have; if you have one, you bring it to me and I'll decide whether or not to proceed further. From now on, all arrests must be authorized through me. I don't care what reasons you think you have; I will decide whether or not to proceed further. Anyone caught abusing an Atrian in ANY WAY, will be immediately arrested . . . and I can assure you that I know more than few deep pits where no one will ever hear you scream. I have no patience for bullies and even less patience for fools. If things don't change, I will fire all of you. And you each can sit at home while I consider whether or not to call you back to work. Do I make myself clear?”

Marina smirked at the immediate, “Sir, yes, sir!” that bellowed from the crowd. Apparently Will's calm lethality was even more alarming to the SEU punks that it had been to half of S.H.I.E.L.D. . . . and as a rule, the junior agents at S.H.I.E.L.D. had been _panic-stricken_ in the face of the quicksilver eyed former-Chief Analyst. Watching as Will took a step to join her, she bellowed once again, “Atten-HUT!! Captain America on DECK!” 

The ripple through the crowd was immediate as Steve stepped from the shadows at the edge of the stage, his fearsome wife not even a half-step behind him. The Russian could feel that smirk stretching into a real grin as the soldier swept the crowd with the “Disappointed Face of Doom” – this one was Darcy's terminology, and it was just as accurate as Clint's own nickname for the expression – and every single one of the morons assembled before them almost immediately looked away. The look of shame and embarrassment on each of their faces filled the former assassin and spy practically with glee. His tone was full of judgmental disapproval as he scolded softly, “This is not the behavior of men that I fought and nearly died for. I went to war believing that the values of honor, freedom, loyalty, honesty and equality meant something. It is horrifying to me to learn that I am surrounded by so few to whom these things are important. And to learn that those traits are even less important among the men in the armed forces I have spent my life in service to . . . I am more than disappointed . . . I have no words for the depth of the distress and devastation in my heart.” His face twisted as he entreated them passionately, “You are more than this. These people depend on you for their protection; they are not here for you to exploit for your own gain. I hope you hear me and understand . . . this is unacceptable.”

Marina took note of the few that closed their eyes and flushed in shame, while the rest just looked uncomfortable but not particularly guilty. Cocking her head, she nudged Will and pointed them out discretely, reciting their names to him in a low undertone as Steve continued to speak. “That's Ray Whitehill . . . he was a previous commander, before this last one replaced him. All reports indicate he has a young daughter about Roman's age . . . she recently recovered from a four year stay in the hospital with an autoimmune disease . . . that's why he stepped down, to spend more time with the family while she was ill.” Nodding towards the next, she continued to recite what she knew, “That's Malek Wright . . . he's young but he was Army; I didn't notice anything in his personnel file that caused concern. He might be useful to us. Not married . . . no children . . . not from around here either.”

Narrowing her eyes at the last, she cocked her head as she contemplated him, “That's Jack Beaumont . . . **him** I would be leery of. Something about him . . . it rubs me wrong. His file is too neat, too perfect . . . it almost feels forged.”

Will hummed in agreement, listening intently as she continued through the list of the ones she thought could be persuaded to turn against the other guards or the ones that she thought would cause them the most trouble. Finally, after a long moment of silence, Steve sighed and implored them, “I expect more of this country's soldiers. Prove to me that my faith is not misplaced.”

If anything, Steve's speech had caused the most change through the crowd. There were still some that didn't seem to give a single flying fuck about anything that had happened which meant that the feeling of shame they were feeling filled them with fury more than guilt; it was these few that Marina was more than certain would be receiving their severance papers before the end of the day. But as for the rest, they seemed content to accept the recriminations of America's most famous national hero and attempt to conform to the image he had of them. Stepping forward at Will's brisk nod, Marina bellowed, “Company . . . atten-HUT! Company . . . sa-LUTE! Company . . . dis-MISSED!”

Will stepped forward before many of them could get too far, calling out calmly, “You are all released for the day . . . first thing tomorrow morning, you are all to report for a mandatory physical and then you will each be assigned your new posts. Assembly is again at 0600 . . . if you are not here, don't bother coming in . . . you will no longer be employed. Dismissed!”

Turning on his heel, he placed his hand on the small of his partner's back and guided her easily from the stage, Steve and Gretel only steps behind them. It wasn't until they were out of sight of the rest that he could feel Marina start to sag her weight against him. “Damn this shoulder,” she hissed angrily, her good hand once again coming up to cradle the injured appendage close to her. 

Rolling his eyes at her stubbornness, Will began to unbutton her uniform jacket briskly even as he scolded her in a fond tone. “You have a broken collarbone, Marina . . . not a dislocated shoulder that had already been replaced into joint. Every small movement could move that bone, so wear the damned sling . . . please . . . for my sake if not for your own.”

Sighing heavily, she grimaced as he prodded gingerly at the fractured bone. “Guilt trip, Misha? You know I always fall for one of your guilt trips.” 

Glowering at her, he fussed at the injury, before striding towards where she had thrown the sling. Muttering under his breath, he untangled the fabric in jerky motions, before gently guiding his partner's arm into the sling. Watching as he tightened the straps gently, she smiled in amusement. “All right . . . that's enough of the fussing. Nox is going to be here soon and you still have to figure out how you're going to propose this whole 'hostage' idea to him.”

Will grimaced at the word, insisting, “I like 'foster' better.”

“Either way, I've got shit to do and so do you. So go away,” she scolded fondly, wrapping her hand around his tie and yanking him downwards into a warm kiss. “ _Lyublyu tebya, Mishka_.”

Grinning at her usual briskness, he agreed fondly, “ _Lyublyu tebya, zhemchuzhina_.”

Smirking at him over her shoulder, she strode away briskly towards the shipping containers that would now be their home for the foreseeable future. Turning to his aunt and Steve, he asked, “So, are you both sure you're okay with living here?”

Steve smirked at the younger man, reminding him sternly, “Even if I never actually said that I was making a statement, living here is a statement. And we both know it.”

Nodding in agreement, Will leaned forward to press a warm kiss to his aunt's cheek. “What about you, Aunt Gret? You okay with this?”

“I go where Steve goes,” she replied with an enigmic smile. “Not to mention, Hansel is my brother. I trust him that this is the best place for our family to be.”

“All right then.” Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he grimaced as he remembered the stack of incarceration records waiting for him on his desk. “Well, Marishka is right . . . I have work to be doing. I'm sure I'll see you both at dinner?”

Steve nodded, gesturing at his uniform. “I guess she's going to be the one who knows the best place for me to change? I'd like to learn my way around, and I'm pretty sure this is not the best thing to be wearing in order to do that.”

Shaking his head, Will agreed, “Not really. I think she's already assigned everyone to quarters, so she'll probably be the best person to ask.”

Reaching back, the soldier took the hand Gretel was already offering, before the two walked back towards quarters. Huffing out a resigned breath, Will turned in the direction of his new office . . . and the stack of paperwork that awaited him there. He arrived in time to see Viktoriya Coulson enter the room, a stack of files in the crook of her elbow. Grinning at the sight, he cheered, “Vika! You're here!”

The administrative genius, and both his and Marina's long time personal assistant, smirked at him as she teased, “As though you could function without me. _Fil_ and Yasha are just packing up the rest of our things and they'll be right behind me.”

The two in-laws hugged briefly, before Will gripped her elbow warmly. “Have you been to see Marina yet?” 

“My sister was in fact the one who directed me here. I know Brian and Natasha are already here, and at last report Nika and Jim are both on their way as well; the Merry Murderesses will be together again by the time the Integration Program truly begins.”

“Thank God . . . I have a feeling that we will be needing a little bit of feminine kickassery.”

Her eyes narrowed as she inquired, “Are you expecting problems?”

“Always . . . its why I've been alive for so long.” Leaning forward he pecked her cheek quickly, before continuing, “It's going to be a long day. I hope you came ready to work.”

Looking aghast at the statement, she teased, “Aren't I always?” Holding up the files, she continued, “These are the files for the Crate. They were delivered not more than twenty minutes ago from the Security Board.” Her lips twisted as she confessed, “Apparently, they aren't exactly jumping at the idea, so I hope you know what you're doing, Will.”

“Don't I always?” he teased, reciting her own words back to her.

Rolling her eyes, she offered him half the files with a laugh. “Why don't we split them up? We can compare notes when we get done.”

“Agreed,” he chuckled, accepting the stack and moving to his desk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations: 
> 
> (R) Misha/Mishka - diminutive of Michael/Mikhail (Will's middle name is Michael and Marina is the only one who calls him this)  
> (R) lokhi - fuckers (Am I the only one who giggles at that?)  
> (R) samaya malen'kaya - my little one (Will's most common nickname for his longtime partner and lover, Marina)  
> (R) Lyublya tebya - love you  
> (R) zhemchuzhina - pearl (one of Will's nicknames for Marina)


	3. Making New Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! New Chapter in a couple days. And there should be another UALP chap up tonight. 
> 
> Translations at the end as always:

[](http://s66.photobucket.com/user/GalahadsGurl/media/THE%20UALP/TrioofTerror.jpg.html)

Chapter Three: Making New Friends

Several hours later, he looked up from the file in front of him when there was a knock on his door. “Come!” he called, reaching for where he'd set his long-cold coffee. Grimacing even as he took a bracing sip, he watched the door swing open and Vika appear there. “There's someone here to see you, Will.”

“Who?”

“An Atrian and his wife? They said you were expecting them, but I didn't see anything in the appointment book.”

“Because I've had any time to update it lately?” he laughed, leaning back in his chair.

“Have I mentioned lately that the idea of you functioning normally without me or Marina is ludicrous? Would you please let me know about your appointments? How else am I supposed to manage your calendar?” she scolded fondly, rolling her eyes even as she moved back to allow the couple inside. “The Colonel is expecting you, sir. This way.”

Standing, Will came from around his desk to offer his hand in greeting to the couple that made their way inside. “Vika, if you would hold any and all calls for the foreseeable future. I expect this to last awhile. And if you would send for Lt. Colonel Petrovka as well, I would appreciate it.”

“Understood,” she agreed with a grin, before swinging the door shut behind her and leaving the three alone. 

Twisting, Will gestured toward the chair situated on the opposite side of his desk. “Please, come sit. May I offer you anything to drink? Water . . . juice?”

“No, thank you,” the man insisted, his hand on the small of his wife's back guiding her towards the chair. 

Will's eyes narrowed at the gesture; he personally had done the same thing a million times to his own longtime partner. However, where there was always a warm exasperation from Marina and a fond adoration for his own part, the Colonel could sense no such emotion here. The whole exchange between the two was completely without emotion, as though the two were playing a part and they both knew it. Resolving not to get involved in marital affairs that were not his own, Will shook his head sharply and moved to take his own seat behind the desk. Closing up the folder still lying open, he folded his hands over it and smiled, “Thank you for coming to see me. I understand that you are the political leader among the Atrians and I thought it would serve us both to have some semblance of a relationship with one another.”

“A sentiment I can appreciate, Colonel Grimm.”

“Most people just call me Will . . . the only ones who call me Colonel are the people who have to. Or Vika, who enjoys needling me whenever she wants to.”

“You and your secretary seem very close.”

“Yes, Vika is my sister-in-law. She is my partner's older sister, for all intents and purposes; they grew up together in Russia and have always been very close. As far as my family is concerned, Vika and their other sister, Nika, are family. Marina's third sister, Natasha, is married to my younger brother Brian.”

Nodding in agreement, Nox laid a hand on his chest, “My name is Nox and this is my wife, Maia.”

Smiling a hello, Will announced, “It's a pleasure to meet you both. How about we start with some of the problems you know of here . . . the political climate among the people . . . what you think the first need to be addressed among your people would be?”

Maia's face twisted as she sneered, “And why should we trust a **human**?”

His small was small and amused as he replied, “Whoever informed you that I was human, was grievously misinformed, Ms. Maia. I assure you, I only want to help.”

Nox laid a hand on her knee when she moved to protest once again, announcing, “His partner saved my life last night. If not for her jumping in, one of the guards would have shot me. I was there when he promised to release those in the Crate who were there wrongly, and I will swear even now that he was serious when he vowed to make our lives better here in the Sector. Please Maia . . . have a little faith.” 

“And why should we take his word? Obviously he has some influence, if he was posted here. So regardless of his claims, he must be human. That's the first lie he told us.”

“It is not a lie. I am a clone . . . the man I call my father is in fact the genetic donor of myself and my brothers. We were created by the government in the 1960s to replace another perfect soldier they had built and lost . . . the man my father's sister married, Steven Rogers.” Giving her a bland smile, he remarked coldly, “You should probably pick up a human history book at some point; all of this is common knowledge, with the information known since 2014 . . . about six months prior to your ship crashing here on this planet. They were going to lock me up and try to duplicate me once again; however, since I have fought and bled and nearly died for this country many times over . . . the public opinion was decidedly not in favor of my incarceration.”

Seeing that his wife was going to protest once again, Nox reached and placed a hand on her knee, squeezing firmly in admonishment. “Maia, please . . . peace. At least let us hear him out.” 

The door behind them opened again and Marina came into the room, obviously still chuckling over some joke she had shared with her sister just prior. She slammed to a stop at the furious look on her partner's face, and the distrustful one on the Atrian woman's own. Narrowing her eyes, she asked in a bitingly charming tone, “Misha . . . _moya lyubimov_ . . . what the hell is going on in here?”

Smiling up at her sharply, he gestured her towards her usual seat on the corner of his desk. “You have impeccable timing, _samaya malen'kaya_.”

Narrowing her eyes at him, she moved easily through the room and hitched herself up onto the desk. Crossing one knee over the over, she leaned backwards on her uninjured hand, her other drumming restlessly on her thigh. Practically glaring at the two Atrians, she bit out cheerfully, “You're not answering the question.”

“It's all right . . . Ms. Maia and I are just having a disagreement about our intentions here in Sector.”

Marina's hot chocolate eyes went icy as she all but glared at the other woman. “I see . . . and what **exactly** are her objections to our using our own savings to renovate this place? It's not like the government is going to be footing that bill.”

The shock was clearly visible on her face at the information, though Will only smirked at her passive-aggressive approach to the conversation. “I'm sure it's not important at this point . . . we'll address those concerns when we get to them.”

“Have you told them about the matter we discussed?”

“Not yet . . . I was waiting for you.”

Humming in acknowledgment, Marina allowed her eyes to slip closed as she began to count backwards from one hundred in Russian, her lips moving along soundlessly. Smirking, Will leaned back in his chair and counted along with her, flipping open the folder once more and beginning to make notes in a notebook at his elbow while he waited for her to finish. Finally, she was winding down, counting audibly, “три. . . два. . . один.” Straightening her spine, she shook her head to clear away her murderous thoughts and turned her attention back onto the couple in front of her again. 

Will didn't look up from his notebook as he inquired calmly, “Feel better?”

“I don't know . . . I'm considering Korean next,” she replied honestly, glancing back over his shoulder with a self-deprecating smile. 

Chuckling, he capped his pen once more and tossed it onto the open folder as he sprawled backwards in his chair once again. “Ambitious.”

“Calming,” she retorted.

“Marina, you hate Korean.”

“I know . . . I leave it and all its translations to you. You actually enjoy the language, god only knows why.”

“It's a challenge, and I do so enjoy a good challenge.” Leaning forward on his elbows again, he asked, “Are you ready to restart this conversation?”

“I don't know? Is she ready to stop being stupid?” she asked in a perky tone, her head tossing slightly in a stereotypical cheerleader kind of way. Taking another deep breath through her nose and blowing it out quickly, she nodded, “Yes . . . I'm ready.”

“Good. I haven't unpacked the target you use to throw your knives at yet and I really don't want to waste the work you did getting hurt by letting you kill the Atrian leader and his wife.”

“I haven't killed anyone in like months,” she protested, delighting in the horrified look that flashed across the Atrian woman's face. 

“I know . . . you're getting restless and antsy . . . it usually precludes a stack of dead bodies on some bit of foreign soil.”

“Sector isn't foreign soil.”

Grinning at her, he agreed dryly, “Indeed.”

“Either way, moot point. Moving on . . . I promise not to kill anyone . . . at least not right now.”

Nodding in agreement with her promise, he returned his attention back onto Nox and Maia. “Now . . . on to what we were previously discussing, shall we? In your opinion, what is the most pressing need of the Atrians here in Sector? I'm assuming as _Iksen_ you have better knowledge of the situation here than a man who did no more than fifteen minutes worth of touring this place before his partner got shot saving your life.”

Marina smirked, snarking under her breath in amused Russian, “ _Somnitel'nyy mnogo_? (Backhanded much?)”

Laughing, he replied in the same language, “ _Hush vas_ (Hush you.)”

Nox took a deep breath, obviously disconcerted by the use of a language he didn't know, before speaking, “Surely you've noticed that our homes are shipping containers stacked one on top of another. They are several hundred feet high and the connections are flimsy at best.”

“I already have a few architect friends coming to take a look about how to improve the catwalks and walkways. I've also spoken to my superiors about extending Sector outwards another 200 yards, to be able to lower some of the uppermost apartments back to ground level. That was one of the only things I noticed last night as Marina and I were walking through your marketplace. I also noticed that the market is rather a cramped place . . . and there isn't much in the way of fresh food – vegetables, fruits, whatever meats you can consume safely. I have a few friends in the farming industry . . . we're going to be working on a deal to be able to get those things here into Sector.” 

Marina frowned as she considered, before asking, “What about a hydroponics lab here in Sector? Maybe a composting facility?”

Will's eyes narrowed as he considered it, before nodding slowly, “That's a good idea. Maybe it can be Atrian-run . . . give some of the people here a chance to do something more. I could arrange for exportation, sale in outside markets. Granted, your people would get firsthand pick of everything produced, but it could feasibly produce an income source here at Sector . . . if you wanted it to. Of course, you can choose to keep everything within Sector, too, but it's an idea for the future, if you'd like.”

Nox frowned as he asked, “Hydroponics? I'm afraid I don't know what that is.”

“It's a facility that grows organic produce without requiring soil . . . or much space. It's feasible, especially once I get the authorization to extend the boundaries of Sector.”

“You sound pretty sure of yourself,” Maia scoffed with a roll of her eyes.

Smiling tightly, Will reached to place a firm hand on his partner's thigh to hold her in place as she hissed like a disgruntled kitten. “I am . . . I have the complete confidence of my direct superior, due in large part to the fact that we have been close, personal friends for the last thirty years. He knew that I would be able to do what needed to be done, without fucking up relations with the government in the long run. Frankly, you should be grateful. The guy they were going to replace the last commander with was a dipshit and a raging asshole . . . if anything, things would have gotten much much worse around here.”

Marina's eyes narrowed as she hissed, “I don't think I like her tone, Mishka.”

“I know . . . but you'll tolerate it, won't you.”

Only someone who had known him as long and as intimately as Marina would have recognized that it wasn't a question, but an order. Grunting, she forced her body to relax backwards once again. “Whatever.”

Smirking at her version of a pout, Will squeezed her thigh and returned his attention back to Nox. “I understand your planet, Atria, was mostly lagoon and rather a lot of vegetation. Am I correct in that understanding?”

“You are,” he agreed with a small nod. “Most of the water was fresh, but there were a few salt water oceans.”

Marina frowned as she suggested, “Maybe some kind of man-made lagoon for Sector, where everyone could go and swim? And there needs to be a play area of some kind for the younger children. The Sector School doesn't even have a playground . . . it's terrible. And maybe a music room, with instruments for them? The girls would be thrilled to be able to teach music classes again. As well as a library for the adults? I know the restrictions on technology, like phones or computers, but no one said they couldn't have access to books. And we could install a bakery, something like a Starbucks, but without the coffees . . . nice herbal teas, or maybe some of the Atrians have some ideas on what to serve.” She was silent for a moment, before cheering excitedly, “Oooh . . . Steve could teach some art classes for the adults? Or even for the children? And Bucky could teach the little ones martial arts; I know Valya would be all over those classes.”

Will chuckled as he watched her start to throw out Ideas, keeping a mental tally of the plans she was making. When she finally paused to take a breath, he interrupted her fondly, “All of this sounds doable; we'll put together the details later tonight. Anything else you would like us to address, Mr. Nox? Ms. Maia?”

Giving his wife a sharp look, Nox shook his head in reply, “No . . . I think you've already addressed everything I would like to see changed.”

“Good . . . then Marina and I have a proposition for you.”

Maia's eyes narrowed as she demanded sharply, “What kind of proposition?”

Will chuckled as Marina looked upwards and began to count backwards in Korean, “ _Baeg . . . aheun-ahob . . . aheun-yeodeolb . . ._ ”

Resting his chin on his palm, he watched her with a grin as she forced her hands into work, signing along in ASL to the Korean she was speaking, so as to stop herself from wrapping them around the Atrian woman's neck. The Colonel knew his partner better than anyone; the woman's hostility, even in light of everything that they were willing to do for them, was riding on Marina's last humanitarian nerve. He was probably going to need to convince Bucky to take her out for a sparring session or something that night, or else Maia probably wouldn't live to see the following day. Finally, Marina calmed enough that she returned her gaze downwards once again. 

Squeezing her thigh again, Will turned his attention onto the other couple. “I understand that your two children, Sophia and Roman, have been chosen to be among the Atrian Seven who will be attending Marshall next week. Am I right?”

“Yes, I'm very excited for them. It will be a great opportunity for us to prove that we Atrians are as hopeful about Integration as the humans who have instigated the program,” Nox agreed with a calm smile. 

“How is Roman? I understand he's your heir . . . the next _Iksen_?”

“He is . . . he's my oldest. He is very well, thank you for asking.”

“I assume that you've already begun training him as to what will be expected of him as the future leader of your people?”

“He is restless and impatient, but he listens well. He knows what is expected of him upon my death.”

Will grinned, remembering his own oldest daughter's impatience towards sitting still for long enough to learn anything. “Unfortunately, I'm afraid it's a teenager thing. He sounds very much like my own twin girls. They're about Roman's age . . . sixteen as of two months ago. Night and day, but best friends forever.” 

“You're very lucky . . . I know of some siblings who cannot get along to save their own lives.”

Nodding in agreement, the Colonel glanced up at his partner. Sensing that he was waiting for her to take over, Marina spoke up, “There are so many things that are going to be changing around here. So many changes for the better.” Glancing at her lover, she smirked and continued, “We would like Roman to be a part of that, as he is the next _Iksen_ , and will be taking a first hand role in the integration process.”

“Part of that, how?” the Atrian woman asked suspiciously. 

“We'd like to foster him, take him into our home . . . help him build a relationship with the humans outside the walls. He's young, but public sentiment is vastly against the Atrians, regardless of the Integration mandate laid out by the government. We want Integration to be a success, and having Roman involved in each moment, from the first step, would do a lot to help with public opinion.” 

“As you've said, he will be the next leader of your people. And things being as they are, it is in his best interests to learn how to navigate human society quickly.”

“What would his fostering entail?”

“He'd live in our home; as far as our treatment of him, he would receive all of the same privileges as my daughters and my sons. I'd want him working with me, with the other Atrians, letting my superiors meet him and get to know him. Let the Atrians see that you really do want integration to succeed, and are willing to put your own son in a position to make that happen.” Smiling sheepishly, he drove in the final nail, “Frankly, you'd be doing me a favor. Having Roman involved from the word go, would be beneficial to all of us . . . but most of all me. Give a face to the people I'm in charge of here, give my superiors someone to tie to my efforts.” Leaning forward, he smiled kindly, “If it makes you feel better, you can think of it as an apprenticeship . . . a working relationship, that in the end will be to his benefit.”

Maia was immediately out of her seat, shouting at him in Sondiv. Her mouth snapped shut with a sharp click, however, when Will insisted in the same language, “You will watch what you say about my partner . . . I will tolerate many things, but not that. I hope I make myself clear, Ms. Maia. This is your only warning.”

Turning away from the irate and seething woman, he turned his attention onto Nox. “Are we in accord?”

Glancing at his wife, Nox took a deep breath before standing from his chair with extended hand. “Yes . . . we are.” Ignoring his wife's immediate outcry, he watched Will stand from his own chair and shake the offered hand. “When would you like me to bring him to your home?”

“I would like him moved into our home before my children arrive home. How does tomorrow morning sound? Give him time to pack up, say his goodbyes, spend one last evening in your home.”

“Are you restricting me from my son?” the woman interrupted, railroading over whatever her husband was about to say.

“Of course not . . . however, I do anticipate that he will be quite busy in the upcoming weeks. School, homework, working with me . . . but no, I have no intention of restricting you from your son . . . or forbidding Roman from seeing you. I realize you don't know me well, but to me, my family is everything. I wouldn't do what I do except that I know by doing it, I keep them safe in the long run.”

Seeing his sincerity, Nox nodded once in silent agreement. “I will have him at your home in the morning then. What time would be best for you?”

“There's an assembly tomorrow morning; we're rearranging the schedules and the postings of the SEU idiots tomorrow at 0600 . . . how does noon sound?” 

“That sound amenable.” Taking a deep breath, he looked down at his wife and offered her his arm. “Is there anything else that you would like to discuss with us?”

“No . . . I think we've covered everything for the time being.”

“Then I believe we shall take our leave, Colonel . . . thank you, for everything you've committed to do for our people.”

Nodding in silent agreement, he watched as the man practically forced his metaphorically nail-spitting wife from the room by his firm grip around her upper arm. Twisting to look at Marina, he smiled wryly, “Well . . . that went well.”

“You should probably look that word up in the dictionary, Misha.” Glaring at the door, she released a sigh and sagged, feeling her fury collect deep into her gut. “That woman is a menace. What did she say about me, that got you all riled up?”

“Suffice it to say that if I hear her say it again, I will not hesitate to snap her neck where she stands. So she should probably keep my warning in mind and keep her mouth closed.”

Grinning, she moved to wrap her arms around his neck. Lifting up onto her tiptoes, she pressed a warm kiss to the underside of his chin. “My hero,” she giggled, eyes sparkling as she felt his arms wrap around her waist and lift her up that small inch more to press a kiss to her lips. Dropping back onto her heels, she grimaced and announced, “I'm going to go find Bucky. I need to beat the hell out of something, and _Zima_ is always the best one to do that with.”

“Sounds good. Frankly, I was thinking about that earlier. Go . . . have fun.”

“Always,” she laughed over her shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations: 
> 
> (R) Misha/Mishka - diminutive of Michael/Mikhail (Will's middle name is Michael: Marina's most common nickname for Will, her long time lover and partner)  
> (R) moya lyubimov - my love  
> (R) samaya malen'kaya - my little one (Will's most common nickname for Marina, his long time lover and partner)  
> (R) три. . . два. . . один - three . . . two . . . one (written in Cryllic)  
> (K) Baeg . . . aheun-ahob . . . aheun-yeodeolb . . . - One hundred . . . ninety-nine . . . ninety-eight . . .   
> (R) Zima - Winter (Marina's nickname for Bucky Barnes, who is one of her oldest friends)


	4. Roman, Roman . . . Wherefore Art Thou Roman?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations at the bottom of the chapter as always.

[](http://s66.photobucket.com/user/GalahadsGurl/media/THE%20UALP/TrioofTerror.jpg.html)

Chapter Four: Roman, Roman . . . Wherefore Art Thou Roman?

Meanwhile, Roman was racing his best friend over the rooftops. He and Drake had been as close as brothers for as long as he could remember, and with the arrival of the new commander the two had decided to go do some old fashioned spying. His feet made a loud _bang!_ as he jumped from one and fell about six feet to land on the next. “Dude . . . you are about as stealthy as a dog in a tin can,” Drake laughed, to which Roman replied, “And what the hell is a dog doing in a tin can!?”

“Shut up!” was the intelligent response, before he slammed to a stop at the edge. 

Surprised by the action, Roman managed to stall his forward progress enough that he only rocked Drake in place instead of shoving him over the edge into open air. “What the hell man!? You could have made that jump.”

“I know . . . but I saw that!” he scoffed, crouching low and pointing towards a pair of people dragging thick mats into place on the deserted concrete below. 

The lack of Atrian birthmarks on their faces was obvious, and even more apparent when the female human stripped her sweatshirt over her head and moved onto the mats. Attired in a tight fitting tank top and a pair of skintight capri pants, she was practically feral as she grinned in the direction of her soon-to-be opponent. However, it wasn't until the other man stripped off his own shirt that Roman gawked. “Is **that** . . . ?”

“A metal arm?! Certainly looks like it. Why the fuck would anyone have a metal arm!?”

“Looks like a prosthetic, but I had thought that human prosthetics were flesh colored,” Roman hissed, watching as the two began to circle each other warily, hands up in front of their faces. 

A voice from behind them froze them both in their tracks, as it replied, “Usually they are. But Bucky is kind of a special case. Don't ask him about it though . . . it's kind of a sore topic.”

Looking over at Drake, Roman asked, “Did you say that?”

“No . . . did you?”

Taking a deep breath, Roman turned to see a young man standing behind them, arms folded over his chest and his lips twisted into a sly smirk. “Just a tip . . . don't spy on spies. It's not smart.” Moving to join them at the edge of the roof, he grinned down as he watched the woman grab the man's arm and throw herself upwards, her thighs coming up around his neck and throwing him down to the ground with her weight. They laid there for a moment, before the man reached out and tapped the mat, causing the woman to release him and roll away. Letting out a sharp wolf whistle, their captor called out, “Kick his ass, Marishka!!”

“Just remember in whose bed you sleep, _khischnick_!!” the man called back in response, earning a laugh and a quip, “I do . . . Darcy's! You just happen to share it with us!”

Looking at his sparring partner, the metal armed man laughed, “Seventeen years together, and I'm thrown over for Dollface. How fair is that!?”

The woman called Marishka rolled her eyes as she dodged an incoming punch, sidestepping and kicking down hard into the back of his knee. “I prefer to stay out of Clint's relationships, _Tovrets_ . . . seeing as you are one of my dearest friends and he was my first baby.”

“Liar . . . you have and will kick my ass if I make him cry,” he scoffed, dropping his shoulder and getting her low in the kidneys, causing her to double over a bit though she just barely managed to dodge the punch he aimed towards her temple that would have dropped her onto the mats.

“That's different . . . that is my right as his mother. Otherwise, you both can figure it out for yourselves,” she grunted, before she turned her back and tossed him over her shoulder like a bag of rocks. 

The man bounced for a moment, before rolling away from the stomp she aimed towards the sensitive flesh at the inside of his thigh. Rolling back to his feet, he brought his hands up as he asked, “May I ask who I'm currently a stand-in for right now, or do I not want to know?”

“Frankly, I'm not in the mood to speak the _suka_ 's name. But suffice it to say that even **Misha** is less than impressed by the woman's behavior.”

“Wow . . . it takes a lot for Will to dislike someone,” he remarked with a whistle. Ducking a roundhouse kick aimed at his head, he swept her legs out from under her and remarked, “Let me guess . . . she said something nasty about you.”

“He wouldn't tell me the specifics, but I can assure you the look on his face was less than favorable,” she agreed, rolling rapidly as he moved to press his advantage. Finally rolling upwards onto her shoulders, she launched herself onto her feet and blocked the incoming punch, the two moving through a rapid exchange of blows before she dropped to the ground with Bucky straddling her waist and her hands pinned to the mat above her head. She fought the position for all of a moment, before she twitched her fingers to tap out against the back of his hand. Watching as he backed off, she accepted his pull to his feet and took up position across from him again. 

Sensing that the conversation was over and the sparring session was now beginning in earnest, the sniper turned away from them and focused on the two Atrian teenagers playing at spy. “Names?”

“I'm Roman. This is my best friend, Drake.”

Smirking, Clint replied, “Major Clint Grimm . . . the Colonel is my older brother. What do you think you're doing, spying on people you have no business spying on?”

Roman glanced at his best friend, and seeing no help there, turned back again. “We weren't intending to spy, per se. We were just curious. Except for the SEU guards, there haven't ever been humans in the Sector before.”

Clint chuckled as he cocked out a hip. “Don't try to bullshit a bullshiter. Try again . . . the truth this time.”

It was about then that Drake spoke up, obviously fascinated with the display taking place below them. “Where did they learn to fight like that?”

The older man considered the question, before shrugging lightly, “The Russians. The woman is Marina Ivanovna Petrovka . . . she was taken from her father when she was a child and raised to be a spy and assassin. The man's name is Bucky Barnes . . . he was her mentor, a father figure to her; after the _Krasnaya Komnata_ announced their intention to terminate her because they believed her too kind to be an effective assassin, he took her under his wing . . . made her the best killer in her class. And as you can see, she is very good at it.”

Narrowing his eyes at the young man dressed in black, he took in his attire and stature. Granted, Will was kind of the expert on the Atrians, but Clint **HAD** paid **SOME** attention when Darcy had been extrapolating on the Atrian tribal system and the aspects of each of the tribes. If he didn't miss his guess – and he never missed – Clint would bet this kid, Drake, was from the _Vwasak_ tribe, the Warrior tribe of the Atrians. Smirking, he offered, “I bet if you asked, they'd teach you . . . to fight I mean. Their skill levels are among the highest here, I can guarantee it, and you would never find a better teacher . . . except for maybe the _Chernaya Vdova_ , but she prefers not to train people. She doesn't have the patience for stupid . .. I mean, students,” he corrected, with a sly grin indicating that he had not misspoken, despite the edit. 

Smirking at the other teenager, he took in the thin white t-shirt and the patched, threadbare jeans. As far as he knew, there was only one Roman in the Sector . . . and if he somehow fucked up the foster situation, not only would Marina kill him, but Will would find some unpleasant hole in the ground to drop him into. Speaking from experience, that threat of that was much worse than any method of murder Marina could come up with. Clint **HATED** to be bored . . . and being stuck in holes in the ground were boring. Considering the kind of crazy he was going to be subjected to before he even knew it, Clint only smirked and returned his attention back down onto the fight going on below them. 

Glancing down at his watch, he frowned at the time and remarked, “Why the hell aren't you kids in school?”

“School doesn't start for another week. We'll be going to Marshall in town, as a part of the new Integration Initiative.”

Smirking, Clint snarked, “When Marina's involved, most Initiatives tend to work out just fine. So I guess there's that in favor of this thing.” Wincing along with the two boys, he watched as Bucky caught Marina's leg in both hands, but stumbled when she allowed her other leg to crumple under her, taking them both to the floor. Once the Winter Soldier was flat on his back, Marina lifted her leg and brought it down sharply into his solar plexus. Immediately, the metal hand slapped down on the mat as the older man curled up coughing. “Jesus, Marina, don't kill my boyfriend!”

Even from the roof, Clint could see Marina's eyebrow climb upwards into her hair. “Are you okay? I didn't think I hit you that hard?”

Bucky was wheezing a little as he caught his breath, waving away the question, “Just took me by surprise. I don't usually fall for that old trick.”

Grunting, Marina grimaced as she rotated her shoulder and it was then that Clint noticed the blood decorating the gauze taped to her shoulder. “Hey _sestra_!? You're bleeding.”

“What?” she asked, craning her neck to see. “Ah fuck . . . Misha is going to have my neck.”

The Soldier reached out and moved the strap of her top carefully, peeling back the gauze and laying the wound bare. Prodding at it carefully, he examined the expert stitching before shaking his head. “Looks like you pulled a stitch. You can probably get Vincent to fix it for you.” Gesturing to the swollen collarbone, he asked, “How's the break?”

“Aches a bit, but it's already healing. It wasn't a break, just a fracture. Though, I doubt you could tell from Misha's fussing . . . you'd think I was missing pieces or something.”

“He just worries about you. It's not like he's allowed to smother you very often. Frankly, I'm surprised that he's even letting you spar with me this afternoon.”

“I think he was more concerned that I was going to murder the _Iksen_ 's wife, than he was about my shoulder when I made the suggestion.” Clint glanced sideways to see Roman's eyes stretch wide, even as Marina continued, “I understand that she has little reason to trust humans, but frankly, when I pretty much point blank said that Will and I were going to be the ones paying for the renovation in Sector, you'd think that would have earned us SOME good will. But all she could do, was make demands and argue. And then she insulted me . . . in Sondiv . . . apparently, she didn't realize that Will speaks Sondiv.”

“And now I'm impressed at Will's fortitude. I would have thought she'd be dead.”

“He gave her a warning . . . Considering the look on her face, she'll think twice before doing so again.” Stretching gingerly, she bent backwards into a long arch, before straightening with a wince. “Either way, I think I'm done for the day.”

The two combatants offered each other formal bows, fist to palm in the tradition of Japanese martial artists, before Marina moved to gather up her things. Glancing up at her boy, she ordered, “You boys may want to head on home . . . nothing more to see here.”

Both of the teenagers looked shamefaced at being caught spying, earning a wide grin from Clint. “I'll make sure they get home all right, Marina.”

“Thank you, _dorogoy_. I'm sure I'll see you and _Zima_ at home for dinner, right?”

“Depends . . . are you cooking?”

“Don't I always?”

“Awesome! Can we have Turkey Bruschetta salad for dinner tonight!?”

“I think that can be arranged,” she giggled, dragging on her sweatshirt and scooping her bag up over her uninjured shoulder. “I'll see you boys at home.”

Bucky hauled on his shirt over his head, before parkouring up the wall to suddenly stand next to his boyfriend. Catching the shorter man around the waist, he hauled him in for a brief kiss, teasing, “Couldn't resist the chance to see me with my shirt off, could you?”

“Who could blame me for that? You are a hunk a burning stud muffin, lover.” Clint laughed. “Darcy wanted to come too, but Will has her putting that political science degree of hers to good use. She and Rene are going to be in charge of all the public relations shit before the Integration.”

Turning to the teenagers, he was surprised to see that neither of them looked disconcerted or disgusted by the display of affection between the two former killers. The slighter of the two, seeming to understand his unspoken question, replied, “Atrians don't determine sexual attraction based on gender. This isn't anything we haven't seen before.”

“Congratulations to the Atrians for being light-years ahead of the human race,” Bucky snarked with a roll of ocean blue eyes. Glancing at his boyfriend, Bucky turned to face the teenagers more fully. “And who might you two be . . . besides terrible spies? Seriously . . . who taught you stealth? Because either they are very bad teachers or you were terrible students.”

Both boys blushed lightly, as Clint snickered at their expense. “Big, tall and hulking is Drake and the other is his best friend, Roman.”

At the name, the Soldier's eyes sharpened and his head jerked around quickly as he echoed, “Roman?” 

“Mm-hm . . .” was all Clint said, ignoring the curiosity on the young man's face. Leaning up for a kiss, he reminded his lover, “I have to escort the kiddos home. Want to join me? Or are you going to go make a headstart on getting Darcy all dirty for us?”

“Either option is going to end with Dollface naked, right?”

Smirking, Clint agreed cheerfully, “Typically.”

“Then I'll come with you and then we'll go dirty up Darcy together.”

“Sounds like a plan,” the younger sniper agreed, before turning back to the teenagers. “Forward . . . march.”

When Roman was finally deposited at his front door, it was with a grin on his face. The two older men were hilarious, and neither of them were short on quips or cracks at each other's expense. The respect and love between them was visible, even to a casual admirer, and for some reason, the memory of the six year old human girl who had protected him on Arrival Day ten years ago came to mind. He wondered how she was . . . if she was okay . . . if he'd ever get to see her again. 

Pushing open the door to the shipping crate his family called home, he immediately walked into a battleground. His mother was screaming at his father in furious Sondiv, his father was standing as motionless as stone and his sister Sophia was sitting on their couch, staring at the altercation in horror as tears rolled down her cheeks. The creaking sound of the door drew everyone's attention and Maia froze, before gesturing violently in his direction as she ordered brusquely, “Tell him! Tell your son what you've done!”

“Maia! Please! You make it sound as though I've sold him into prostitution or something ridiculous!” Nox finally protested, throwing his arms up into the arm and causing his oldest child a considerable amount of confusion. 

Edging cautiously around the renewed argument, Roman came to sit next to his sister on the couch. “Soph . . . what's going on? What is Mom talking about?”

Sophia's mouth twisted sadly, even as she answered the question as honestly as she dared, “You're moving out tomorrow . . . you're going to be fostered at the new commander's house.”

His eyebrows furrowed at the term, and he repeated it carefully, “Fostered?”

“Yeah . . . they want you to live with them, so that they can help you build relationships with the people outside of Sector. They told Mom and Dad during their meeting with them earlier this afternoon.”

Nodding in agreement, Roman considered the situation before offering cautiously, “It makes a certain kind of sense. And my living there would probably help keep the peace between the newly arrived humans and our people within the Sector.”

Sophia's smile grew more genuine as she remarked dryly, “Mom's not exactly happy about it.”

“This I can see. How long has she been yelling at him?”

“Awhile . . . almost since they got back.”

Finally, Nox roared at the top of his lungs, “Maia! That is ENOUGH! I understand you don't like it, but it is done! It is Roman's last night under this roof; for his sake, can we perhaps pretend to be a happy family!?”

The younger Atrians said nothing as their mother's jaw clamped shut and she stormed away to her own room, the door slamming heavily behind her. Sighing sadly, Nox ran his fingers back through his hair in frustration before coming to sit on the armchair across from his children. “So . . . I'm assuming Sophia has told you?”

Nodding once, Roman replied, “It doesn't sound so bad. And don't the commanders have children?”

“Twin girls your age and a son who is 13.” Leaning forward to take both of their hands, he squeezed them firmly. “They are not bad people . . . they intend to help us. The plans they have to make Sector a better, more liveable situation . . . it's amazing. Even if your placement in their home is only to keep the Trags and the Atrians in line . . . I do not see the downside in it.”

Roman frowned, asking carefully, “Will I still be allowed to come back here?”

“They have assured both your mother and me that they have no intention of forbidding you from seeing us or restricting us from seeing you. You will be free to come and go as you please; you will be treated just like one of their own children.” Resting his forehead against his son's own, he promised, “They will take good care of you. I could never have let you go if I thought they wouldn't.”

Roman's smile was a small one as he replied, “I know. Besides . . . it'll be good training right? After all, if we're going to be here on this planet for awhile, it would probably serve us well for the _Iksen_ to have a good relationship with the rest of the world.”

Chuckling, Nox agreed, “Indeed. I am proud of you, my son . . . you would be well within your rights to throw a tantrum . . . refuse to go.”

“I trust your judgment, Dad. If you think this is the best thing for me . . . I will obey, as I always have.”

Pressing a warm kiss to his temple, he breathed, “Thank you, Roman . . . you are a credit to any father.”

Blushing sheepishly, Roman rubbed self-consciously at the back of his neck. “I strive to be a good son.”

“All right . . . enough of this somber talk . . .what do you two say we go have dinner at the marketplace tonight? Let your mother cool off for a little while.”

Sophia cheered at the news, springing upwards from her seat and running to find her shoes. Roman laughed to watch his younger sister go, before turning back to his father. Seeing the concern in those eyes, Roman promised, “I'll be all right, Dad. Everything's going to be okay.”

The next morning came sooner than he'd thought. Taking down the yellow wire star that was hanging near the door of his room, he tucked it carefully into the top of his single bag. As a rule, Atrians didn't own much and as the teenage son of the _Iksen_ , Roman owned less than most. He was the Heir Apparent . . . his life had not been his own since he was very young. What few things he had, had been given away willingly at some point or another, to those who had need of it more. The only thing he had ever selfish hoarded for himself was a single handmade yellow star . . . and the memory of the young girl who had made it for him.

Shouldering the bag, he looked around the tiny room that had been his own for the last 10 years, then turned away towards his family's common area. His father and sister were waiting for him in the room; his mother had not come out of her room since storming into it the night before. Based on the disappointed look on his father's face, Roman did not hold high hopes that she would change her mind in the next minutes before his departure. 

Sophia lunged into his arms with a sob, hugging him tightly around his waist and burying her face into his neck. “I'm going to miss you.”

“I'm not going to be gone, Soph . . . I'm just not going to be here. You can come see me whenever you want . . . promise. And we're going to be going to school together, so I'm going to get to see you every single day.” Kissing her forehead fondly, he promised, “No matter what . . . you're still my baby sister.”

“And you'll always be my annoying older brother,” she taunted, even as she sniffed back another round of tears. “Have you told Teri? Or Drake?”

“No . . . I'll tell them later, after I'm settled in. I really don't want to deal with the drama that will surely unfold once they find out.” A sudden thought lit his face then as he cheered, “At least I won't have to worry about Teri slipping any more dream leaves under my pillow.”

“Silver lining to every cloud,” she teased with a wink. 

Squeezing him tightly once more, she released him and watched him stride toward their mother's room. “Goodbye, Mom,” he called through the door, waiting for a moment to see if there would be any response. 

There was none for more than a minute, and Roman sighed, reaching out to lay reverent fingertips on the door. “Love you,” he muttered, before moving to join his father at the door of their pod. Looking around the small space one last time, he straightened his shoulders and nodded at his father. “I'm ready.”

“Then let's get going . . . we're going to be late.”

Nodding in agreement, Roman followed him from the pod and shut the door with a loud clang behind them. Nox's hand came up to rest on his son's shoulder, as the two walked companionably towards the newly erected commander's quarter's near the front gates of the Sector. As they drew nearer, they could see a short brunette, talking animatedly with a willowy redhead and an equally short black haired woman on the ground level in front. The three were joined shortly by an Amazonian blond, the four giggling happily and throwing themselves wholeheartedly into an ecstatic embrace. 

An indistinct call overhead brought the brunette's head up and around and it was only a moment before she caught sight of the two Atrians approaching. Disentangling herself from the four-way hug, she turned back to the building and called, “Misha! They're here!” 

“Coming . . . have you seen my phone?”

The rolling of her eyes was audible in her tone as she replied, “Have you checked your jacket pocket?”

“Yes! First place I looked!”

“Not the outside pocket, Misha . . . the inside one!”

There was a pause, before the voice called in reply, “Thank you!”

The blond woman laughed and asked, “What would he do without us?”

“I shudder to contemplate,” the brunette laughed with a wink and a giggle. Turning back, she stood with hands clasped in front of her as she waited for them to join her. Blinking in well concealed surprise at the familiar features, she extended her hand in greeting to the young man, “Hello Roman . . . it's nice to officially meet you.”

Clasping her elbow in the Atrian greeting, Roman had the grace to blush as he replied, “You're an amazing fighter.”

Winking at him, she teased, “I had an amazing tutor.” Releasing him, she gestured towards the women with her, “May I present my sisters, Natalia Romanova, Viktoriya Coulson, and Veronika Street. Ladies, this is Roman . . . our new foster son.”

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Roman . . . you're in good hands. Marina and Will have had the raising of more than a few boys, and they're all amazing men,” the redhead named Natalia insisted, offering him her hand and grinning as he took her elbow in the same way he'd taken Marina's. Glancing at the youngest sister, she teased, “You may want to teach him what a handshake is.”

“And before he meets SecDef,” Veronika agreed, chuckling as he gave her the same Atrian arm clasp.

“Oh god, SecDef,” Marina moaned, her eyes rolling backwards as she began to count backwards in Russian. She was at about 80 when she inquired, “I was having a good day . . . did we have to bring up SecDef?”

“Always a pleasure to shit on your sunshine, Marishka,” Veronika laughed, winking playfully at the younger sister. 

Rolling her eyes upwards, Marina muttered, “And I wonder where Valya gets her mouth. Between Nika and Brian . . . I'm still not sure why I'm surprised.”

It was about then that Will came clambering down the stairwell, mouth moving at a mile a minute as he spoke into the bluetooth speaker he was wearing in the ear not utilized by his comm unit. “I don't give a damn what you think, get them here or I'm going to send the Murderesses to make some heads roll. And trust me . . . I will enjoy it more than you. I am paying them for a renovation . . . not funding a tea party. Make it happen,” he ordered briskly, before snapping, “Shae, end call.”

“Yes, Colonel,” came the automated voice from the device. 

Marina grinned as she moved to the bottom of the staircase, reaching up to straighten his tie and fix his topsy turvy lapels. “Bad day at the office?”

“The contractor we hired? He's already been paid, but he's claiming he needs another additional twenty five percent, because he didn't realize that his architects would be here in Sector.”

“And what did you tell him?”

“Didn't you hear?” he teased, bending to press a warm kiss to the curve of her earlobe. “If I don't get an architect here within the hour, I'm going to be send you and your sisters to his office to remind him of why things get done when I'm in charge of them.”

Marina grinned as she finished buttoning up the front of his uniform jacket, smoothing her palms over the lapels to force them to lie flat. “I am more than amenable to this plan. In the meantime, Nox and Roman are here. So leave the Colonel face at the end of the drive, and _pretend_ to be a well adjusted, normal and adequately socialized human being.”

“Can I at least pretend to be normal? Adequately socialized is kind of a tall order for me,” he reminded her, calling to mind all the times she had been forced to rescue her socially inept lover from his own mouth. 

Grunting, he agreed, “True enough. All right . . . yes, at least pretend to be normal.” Kissing him quickly, she chirped, “Thank you!”

Looping her arm in his, the couple strode down the rest of the drive, teasing each other lightly as they approached. Stopping beside the rest of the Murderesses, Will offered the Atrian leader his hand first, “Good to see you, Nox. I wish it was under better circumstances.”

Nox smiled sadly, resting his hand on his son's shoulder and squeezing. “Roman is a good son . . . he understands what is expected from him.”

Turning to the teenager at his name, Will offered him a genuine grin and his hand. “Hello, Roman . . . it's nice to finally put a name to the face.”

Clasping the arm firmly, Roman replied, “You as well, Colonel.”

“It's just Will . . . we don't really stand on formality in this family. I understand you had your own room prior to this, yes?”

Roman nodded, earning a small grimace as Will apologized, “Regrettably, you'll have to share with my son, Trystan . . . there are a lot of us and not a lot of room. I hope this is okay? Trystan's a good kid, quiet . . . I think you'll get along well together.”

The teenager nodded once in agreement, announcing, “I don't mind sharing a room.”

“Good . . . then if you want to head in with Marina, she'll show you to your room while your father and I finish up some last minute details before the architects get here.”

Nodding, Roman scooped up his things and moved to follow Marina into the makeshift home behind them. As he was moving away, he heard the Colonel comment on a pool . . . and where Nox thought the best place to put it would be. As he disappeared into the room, he grinned; it had been a really long time since he'd been allowed to go swimming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations: 
> 
> (R) khishchnick - my little hawk (Bucky's nickname for his longtime boyfriend/lover, Clint Grimm)  
> (R) Tovrets - architect (one of Marina's nicknames for one of her dearest friends and former mentor Bucky Barnes)  
> (R) suka - bitch  
> (R) Krasnaya Komnata - The Red Room  
> (R) Chernaya Vdova - Black Widow (call sign given to Natasha Romanov by the _Akademiya_ and the _Krasnaya Komnata_  
>  (R) sestra - sister  
> (R) dorogoy - darling (Marina's nickname for Clint Grimm)  
> (R) Zima - winter (one of Marina's nicknames for Bucky Barnes)  
> 


	5. A New Meaning To The Word "Chaos"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the silence over the last two days. There has been a lot of shit going down and frankly, I have not been in the mood. Fucking professors. 
> 
> Anyway. Today we officially meet the teenage Trio of Terror; if anyone remembers them from the Advent, consider how much has changed in the 13 years since then. Enjoy! Here's the next chapter. And there will be another chapter of the UALP tomorrow night. Promise.

[](http://s66.photobucket.com/user/GalahadsGurl/media/THE%20UALP/TrioofTerror.jpg.html)

Chapter Five: A New Meaning to The Word “Chaos”

He spent the rest of the day helping the women in the family unpack the house into something resembling a home. He moved couches, helped rebuild beds, lifted dressers, folded & put away clothes, along with a half a dozen other tasks they assigned him on a whim. And the whole time, he marveled at the camaraderie among the four women. They laughed and joked and teased; occasionally, they slipped into a language he didn't know, which usually made them laugh even harder than they had been. 

While this was happening, more and more members of the Colonels' so-called family began to arrive. A young couple in an SUV . . . a rough around the edges redneck on the back of a Harley, with a grey haired woman with cropped hair behind him . . . a tall young blond with a wide grin and a way of coaxing a different kind of laugh from the Colonel's partner . . . each of them made their way into the house, each of them as comfortable there as though they were just coming home. Each of them earned a warm hug from Marina and something to drink, before being guided away to one of the adjoining pods. 

The last to arrive was a stocky young man, with sunny blond hair and a grotesque scar marring the otherwise smooth flesh on the back of his exposed left arm. When she saw him, the Lt. Colonel froze in her tracks. Her eyes took him in, tears welling inexplicably in the corners, before she dropped her end of the couch and practically ran toward him. “Oh Sammy-honey . . . I'm so sorry,” was all said, as he all but buried himself into her arms. 

The young man nodded against the curve of her throat, and Roman could see the way his shoulders shook with repressed sobs as well as the soothing flash of Marina's hands through that sunshine hair. Whatever she whispered in his ear was obviously not for Roman's consumption, but he couldn't help but wonder who this young man was . . . and what circumstances had caused the Colonel's wife to love him so dearly. Stepping back after a long time, Marina took his upper arms into her tiny hands and pushed him back a step, her eyes sweeping up and down his frame. 

Frowning fiercely, she scolded, “I swear on all that is good and holy in this world, Samuel Wayne Braddock, every time I see you, you are the kind of thin that makes the Russian grandmother in me demand to stuff you with food until you burst. Don't you ever eat!?” Whirling him about by the shoulders, she prodded him firmly in the direction of the kitchen, “Off with you . . . I swear . . . you do remember to eat, right? That food is good for you!?” she demanded, her tone maternal and adoring as she shoved him down into a chair and scurried to the refrigerator for whatever she had left over from dinner the night before. 

Sam's tone was teasing as he taunted, “And deny you the pleasure of force-feeding me? Would I ever do such a thing?”

Glaring at him fondly, she dropped a plate and utensils in front of him as she ordered, “Hush you. Eat your dinner. Beer?”

“Yes please,” he agreed, tucking into the left over bruschetta salad with gusto. 

Will walked in then, greeting the new arrival warmly, “So the prodigal comes home.”

Sam grinned sheepishly, as he allowed the older man to pull him into a sideways hug. “Hey Will. It's good to see you.”

“Good to see you too. How are you?”

Shrugging, he picked despondently at his food. “I don't really know.”

Glaring at her lover fondly, she scolded, “Sam, less talking and more eating. And as for you, Colonel, you can go elsewhere if you're going to distract him.” 

Chuckling, Will ruffled the sunny hair fondly as he admonished, “When you're done, I'd like to see you in my office. I have a job for you, if you want it.”

“Sure . . . sounds good,” he agreed, shoving food hastily into his mouth at the fierce glare that erupted across Marina's face. Speaking through a full mouth, he insisted, “Look! I'm eating! See!”

Rolling her eyes, she scoffed, “Don't talk with your mouth full. Geez . . . were you raised in a barn?” Bending, she pressed a warm kiss to the crown of his head and then fluttered away, insisting, “I have to get back to helping with the couch. Finish your dinner, then get some rest. You look tired . . . you and Misha can wait to talk.”

Smiling at her fondly, he agreed, “Yes ma'am.”

“Love you, Sammy-honey . . . it's good to have you home.”

Taking a deep breath, he agreed warmly, “It's good to be home.”

The questions on Roman's mind must have been visibly in his face, because Marina took one look at him and took pity. “Sam is mine and Will's oldest. He's not ours biologically, but we couldn't have loved him anymore fiercely than if he had been. He and his wife are going through a kind of . . . rough patch. The love is still there, but the problems don't seem to be getting any smaller. He's here to take a break and get some perspective.” Clicking her tongue in a clear attempt to push past the topic, she scolded lightly, “Well come on then, put your back into it. This couch isn't going to move itself.”

Grinning at her brisk manner, and the overwhelming affection hidden under it, he agreed cheerfully, “Yes ma'am.”

Narrowing her eyes at him, she laughed, “Oh you're going to fit in with the rest of the boys just fine. Listen to that snark . . . you'll need it. My boys have quick tongues and quicker wits; they'll leave you in the dirt behind them, if you let them.”

Grinning at her, he chuckled, “Thanks for the tip.”

“Always one to level out the playing field, if it can be done,” she agreed, before the two hefted their own corners of the couch and maneuvered it into position against the opposite wall. Wiping her forehead with the back of her wrist, she grimaced as she rotated her shoulder for a moment, before looking up at her erstwhile helper. “Thank you, Roman. You look a little dried out . . . go get some water, okay?”

“Thank you,” he agreed, jogging quickly towards the kitchen. 

He walked in and froze at the sight of the blond; the young man had folded his arms on the tabletop next to his plate and laid his head down on top of them. Based on the even way his shoulders moved in time with his breathing, the man had fallen asleep where he sat. Creeping carefully past the sleeping soldier, he grabbed a pair of water bottles from the fridge, then moved into the living room again. “I think Sam fell asleep at the table.”

Frowning at the intel, Marina looked up from where she was unpacking a box of her books by the couch. “What?”

“Sam . . . he fell asleep at the table.”

The woman's face went soft as she chuckled, admonishing under her breath, “Oh Sammy . . . if you were more tired than hungry, you should have told me.” Pushing herself to her feet, she moved into the kitchen. It took some coaxing, but before long, she had the former sniper on his feet, guiding him down the short hallway towards his room. The sound of their voices was hushed and reverent, before a gentle voice began to sing from the room, “Sing me a song of a lad that is gone . . . say could that lad be I . . .”

Roman was entranced by the sound, even as he could hear the rustling of bedclothes and the soft murmur of fingers through hair. Smiling, he sank down onto the couch with his water and decided that he was going to like it here. Marina was warm and loving, with a quick smile and a charming laugh. She clearly loved her family, as evidenced by the various behaviors she had exhibited with each of them. If Sam was her son, for all intents and purposes, she was clearly a doting mother; Sam had had no qualms about practically melting into the comfort of her arms upon first arriving at the house. Taking a drink, he resolved himself to it; yes, he was going to like it here. 

Of course, it was about then that chaos in human form arrived in Sector. 

All at once, the front door to the modest home blew inwards and three young teenaged girls came swirling into sight. Two of them were inexhaustible, though the third was only a little less exuberant than they were. Marina appeared at the end of the hallway and one of the two twins – because if there was a way to tell the two apart, Roman couldn't figure it out – cheered, “Mama!!”

“Shh!' she scolded, even as she caught the giggling whirlwind in her arms. “Your brother is asleep . . . it's a long way here from Toronto and he's not exactly having a good time of it.”

“Wait . . . Sam's here? What about Jules and Sadie?”

Marina's lips compressed as her head shook, “Jules and Sam have decided to separate . . . again.”

“Again!? For how long this time?”

“I don't know, but we are not going to think about it. We will be supportive and cheerful and we will love him as fiercely as always, agreed, _malyutka_?” she inquired, cocking an eyebrow at the young girl in her arms. 

The girl scoffed as she pouted, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because you're usually the one with the mouth that won't stop talking, Valentina Mikhailovna.”

Grinning with a wink, the so-named Valentina snarked, “Oh yeah.”

Moving deeper into the living room, Marina accepted the warm hug from the younger twin, as she greeted her warmly, “How are you, my little _kotenok_?”

“I'm all right. Tired . . . it was a long trip from New York,” Yekaterina replied, even as she embraced her mother as long as she wanted to. 

Marina's fingers were a comforting presence as they smoothed through the fall of riotous chocolate curls. “I've missed you, Katenka.”

“I've missed you too, Mama. Where's Daddy?”

“He is hopefully with the architects . . . they are supposed to be here to try to redesign some of the housing structures here.”

It was about then that Valya caught sight of Roman . . . and the tattoo-like birthmarks on his face. “Dude! Those are awesome tattoos! Mama, can I get a tattoo on my face?”

“I don't know. Are you eighteen?” Marina asked in a long-suffering tone, that implied they'd had this conversation – or at least a conversation similar to it – many times before. 

“But that's like two years away!” Valya whined, flopping onto the couch dramatically, every inch the Drama Queen she had been at her previous private school. 

Chuckling, Marina promised dryly, “I assure you, it will be here sooner than you think.” Moving towards the third girl, she wrapped the dark haired young woman in her arms. “Hello, Minnow.”

“Hey Aunt Kee,” Minna Kuhn chirped, still clinging to the nickname she had been using for her own mother's best friend since she was a year old. “Do you know when _Vati_ 's getting back with Ma?”

“ _Vati_ left this morning for Malibu, to pick up Maria from Stark Industries. Frankly, none of us were expecting you quite yet . . . I was hoping to be able to give Roman a crash course in the Trio of Terror, before you three showed up.”

“No better crash course than this,” Katenka laughed, perching sweetly on the armrest of her sister's couch. 

Cocking an eyebrow at the totally bewildered young Atrian, Valya snarked, “How many fucking boys have you adopted now?”

“Valentina Mikhailovna!!! What have I said about the swearing!?” Marina scolded, her tone resigned. 

Flopping backwards onto the couch once more, Valya moaned, “Not until I'm 18 . . . ugh . . . can't I just be 18 already? I can already tell that 18 year olds have soooo much more fun than 16 year olds.”

Marina rolled her eyes, even as she came to rest one hand on Roman's shoulder. “Girls, this is Roman . . . he's the son of the Atrians' leader, Nox. He's going to be fostering with us . . . try not to terrify him like you do everyone else, okay?”

Valya snorted, muttering under her breath, “If he's that easily terrified, then he's living in the wrong house.” Immediately her shoulders were in her ears, as her mother snapped briskly, “Valentina!!!”

Sighing, she drawled lazily, “Sorry, Mama.”

Looking towards the ceiling with a fond smirk, Marina muttered, “Truly . . . I'm really not sure why I'm even still surprised.”

Yekaterina, her father's daughter in every way, smiled at the young man shyly. “It's nice to meet you, Roman. You'll have to forgive my sister. Valya was raised by squirrels,” – the indignant squawk from the older twin earned a serene smile from the younger, though she was otherwise ignored – “but eventually you'll get used to her. I'm Yekaterina, but most people call me Katenka or Kat . . . you can call me either one, I answer to both.” Gesturing to her sister, she continued with the introductions, “That is my sister, Valentina, but we call her Valya or Val. She prefers Valya, though, so I would probably use that if I was you.” Twisting in her seat, she reached out to the third girl, before introducing her as well, “This is our aunt, Minna Kuhn . . . she's the same age as Valya and me, so we just call her Minna or Minnow.”

Nodding at each of them, Roman insisted, “It's wonderful to meet you all. I look forward to being able to learn more about each of you.”

Valya rolled her eyes, as she grunted, “Ugh . . . he's so polite. Isn't there any way we're allowed to mess him up? Polite is so . . . boring.”

“He's the Heir Apparent to his father, Valya . . . he doesn't have the same freedoms that you and your sister have enjoyed all of your lives.”

Huffing, she snarked, “Bummer.” Rolling off the couch, she strolled towards the kitchen, “Is there anything to eat . . . I'm starving.”

Chuckling, Marina sighed, “Of course you are.” Pushing herself to her feet, she glanced toward the door and inquired, “Where is your brother?”

Katenka smiled as she chuckled, “He found Uncle Clint . . . at this point, I'm sure the two of them are knee deep in some new schematics for some new bow that Tryst wants Uncle Tony to build him.”

Chuckling, Marina shrugged, “Well then, I guess he's safe enough for the moment. Come on into the kitchen everyone. Roman and I worked straight through lunch; I'm sure we all could use something to eat at this point.” 

“Woohoo!” Valya cheered, dashing at full speed towards the kitchen. 

It was as she was skidding into the kitchen that Marina announced, “First one into the kitchen gets to do the dishes tonight.”

The groan that resulted caused a wide grin from Marina, and a soft snicker from her sister. “Nicely done, Mama,” Katenka chuckled, hooking her mother's elbow with her own. 

Smirking, Marina agreed, “I've still got a few tricks up these old sleeves, _kotenok_ . . . don't you worry about that.”

What started out as a small snack ended up becoming the whole family's evening meal, and before long Roman was experiencing the full force of the Grimm Family Crazy – he'd snickered when Clint had first said it, and now wished that he'd taken him seriously. Crazy wasn't even a good word for what a family dinner with these people entailed, and yet it was probably still the best word for it. 

All of the brothers were there, as were their wives or partners, their children, their extended family and the people that most of the brothers referred to as “The Misfits”. It was chaos . . . and compared to the quiet, stately meals that took place in his parents' home, it was going to take some getting used to. Everyone had something to say, and what's more, everyone got their turn to say it. There was laughter practically visible in the air as bowls were passed and grace was said and everyone tucked into what was a truly delicious meal. Marina warned him away from the things he would be allergic to, even as she promised that she had an epinephrine pen readily available should he consume something he wasn't supposed to accidentally. (Apparently he wasn't the only one at the table with severe allergies to some foods; Trystan was allergic to gluten, whatever that was.)

When Roman finally climbed into his bed, in the room he shared with Trystan, it was with a wide grin on his face. He'd come to this home out of duty, but he could already tell . . . he was **definitely** going to like it here.

It was a whirlwind week, watching the changes flow through Sector like the rivers that had moved across the landscapes on Atria. Roman found himself quickly comfortable in his new home, at ease among these people who loved each other fiercely and protected each other even more so. Drake was distrustful, at least until Bucky offered to teach him how to fight. And Teri was bitter, but she had been changing a lot lately; she wasn't the girl he remembered growing up with, the girl who'd shared his first kiss, and the girl who had been his first lover. Her mother taking over the Trags had increased the amounts of stress laying on the young _Iwabas_ 's shoulders and Roman had found himself hoping that someday would find the two of them on the same side of the battle once more. 

Sophia came over a lot, and the Trio took her under their wing instantly. The three human girls were loud and raucous, but they were also unfailingly loyal and generous to a fault; Roman was fairly certain that it was a trait that had been inherited from their equally generous parents. When he'd give away his new clothes that Marina purchased for him to someone who needed them more, nothing was ever said to scold him. He'd just find a replacement on his bed the following morning, with a smiling face on the note attached to the front. 

It seemed like everyday conditions within the Sector continued to improve as well. Miriam was released from the Crate immediately, returned to her mother and young daughter amid a flurry of laughter and joy. And she was only the first; within that first week, the number of incarcerated was reduced by more than half, with other cases still under intense investigation. The pool had been the first addition, and it was already the favorite gathering place for the community. Roman had forgotten how wonderful it felt to swim and the first time he was able to completely submerge himself in the cool water, he had stayed under for hours. 

The curfew was pushed back from ten o'clock at night to midnight, lifting again at five in the morning instead of seven. The boundaries of Sector were pushed out another 200 yards, as the Colonel had predicted, and several of the topmost homes had been relocated onto the more stable ground. The architects had been hard at work, repairing catwalks and building new pathways between the homes and the ground levels. The containers that they had been forced into had been transformed; they had windows with actual window-boxes planted with flowers and glass panes in them, as well as small patios or balconies in the ones higher up. They still weren't much to look at, but they looked better than they had before. There was a playground at the Sector school, with the condition that it remained open for as long as the curfew was lifted, with swings and slides, a jungle gym, a rock wall, a seesaw and even a castle type structure to play in. There were scientists hard at work to create a hydroponics lab, so that the Sector could grow their own edible foods if they chose. 

It was a miracle and everyday, Roman marveled at something new that the Colonel and his partner had forced into existence with little more than the force of their own determination. And what's more, the Colonel had made sure that the Atrian Heir was right there for every step. He knew every guard by name, at least he knew the ones that the two commanders hadn't fired within an Atrian minute. He'd even met the human Secretary of Defense; the tension between the two commanders and the man had been visible even to an outsider, and Roman hadn't missed the sigh of relief Marina had breathed once he was gone. He'd been introduced to the contractors, the architects, Edendale's mayor, and to a half a dozen other people whose faces were little more than a blur to him. 

His new siblings were pretty cool too; Roman had only ever had the one sibling so suddenly being surrounded by a whole fleet of them was an experience that he was enjoying. Thirteen year old Trystan was deaf and non-speaking, with an IQ so ridiculously high it made geniuses look like morons – at least according to Valya, who was viciously protective of her baby brother and would probably stomp some serious ass if anyone tried to argue with her on the subject. He didn't lip read very well so that had been a challenge, but the two had learned how to communicate fairly effectively despite the fact that they didn't speak the same language. Tryst was teaching him ASL and both of them were trying to translate Sondiv into Sign; it was more hilarious than productive but it never failed to make Roman laugh and Trystan grin. 

Enjolras Rene Grimm, or Rene as he was most commonly called, was an intense political activist who had swooped into town and immediately taken up the mantle of PR Specialist for the Integration efforts. Between him, his long-suffering and beautiful fiancee Nina Thenard and the hilarious Darcy Lewis, public opinion towards the program was quickly shifting towards something more accepting and not quite so hostile. There were of course the very hardcore Red Hawks, who continued to spout their Bible bullshit and preach their twisted gospel of extermination for his people, but as a whole, they were in the minority. 

But the real shock had been the way that the three girls referred to as the “Trio of Terror” had dragged him into their circle. The second their mother had announced that he was a foster, Valya and Katenka had decided that he was their brother and nothing could be said to dissuade them from the matter. Minna Kuhn was their best friend, and could always be counted to take their side in everything, so before he could even take a breath, he went from having the one younger sister to four. Sometimes it was exhausting, but he didn't think he'd trade them for anything. Taking it upon themselves, they proceeded to give him what essentially amounted to a crash course in human interaction. His head was reeling from the wealth of information, though he was more then grateful for their intervention.

All in all, the first day of school came faster than anyone was expecting. And with it, a whole new set of problems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations: 
> 
> (R) malyutka - little girl (Marina's nickname for her daughter, Valya)  
> (R) kotenok - kitten (Marina's nickname for her daughter, Katenka)  
> (G) Vati - Daddy (Marina and Minna Kuhn's nickname for Hansel Kuhn, Minna's father)


	6. The Golden Rule . . . Kick Ass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I just want to say thank you for all of the kudos. However, if it's not too much to ask, when you review, you're helping me so much more. I want to hear your opinions, your thoughts, you ideas. And the kudos button, while important, doesn't really do that. Please . . . if you're reading this and enjoying it - hell, if you're reading it and you're NOT - please shoot me a review and tell me why! I appreciate it so much. Reviews are an author's crack and we inhale them voraciously. :D 
> 
> Either way, I do appreciate the reviews I do get. They make my day!
> 
> Translations at the bottom. Also, a quick note. Atrians are allergic to caffeine; sodas, coffees, certain teas, all of these cause severe allergic reactions with full on anaphylactic shock. So yeah . . . just in case anyone was curious.

[](http://s66.photobucket.com/user/GalahadsGurl/media/THE%20UALP/TrioofTerror.jpg.html)

Chapter Six: The Golden Rule . . . Kick Ass

Roman dressed in the dark, letting Trystan sleep for awhile longer, before moving out to join the Trio for breakfast. The three girls shared a single room in Will and Marina's home, and were already at the table together. They laughed and chatted, occasionally throwing a grape or some other small fruit at whoever was teasing them at that moment. When he arrived in the kitchen, however, all motion stopped as they stared at him in growing horror. Looking down at his scruffy jeans and thin white t-shirt, he frowned and looked up at them again. “What!?”

“That's what you're wearing?” Minna demanded, coming to a standing position and circling him slowly as though he was some exhibit on display at a museum. 

“I had planned on it,” he agreed, before yelping as the twins immediately had him by the wrists and were dragging him down the hallway towards their room. Katenka called back over her shoulder, “Mama, can I borrow the scissors? Poor kid . . . he doesn't even know the kind of social suicide he's courting right now.”

Marina's grin was amused and fond as she offered up the scissors, which Minna snatched from her on the way past. “You have about an hour before school, and Roman still needs to eat, remember!?” she called after them, her only reply the sharp slam of the girls' door as it snapped shut behind them. Chuckling, she rolled her eyes and returned her attention to finishing up the morning meal for the rest of the family that would be trickling in through the course of the morning. 

Shoved into a seat on one of their armchairs, the three girls ranged in front of him, left Roman feeling kind of like a bug in a glass case. Katenka held out her hand and insisted, “I am putting myself in charge of that hair . . . I don't trust you two not to fuck it up.”

Minna shrugged, handing over the scissors, as she agreed, “That's fine . . . I'm going to do something about the clothes . . . seriously, you'd think he got dressed in the dark.”

Roman's face twisted as he protested, “I did. And don't I get a say in this?”

Valya's eyebrows disappeared into her hairline as she cocked her head and asked rhetorically, “Considering that you thought this was appropriate attire for the first day of school? No! You get no say! Bad puppy . . . sit still and shut up.” 

Katenka reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, setting an alarm. “We have an hour before the bus leaves for school, and Mama will flip her lid if she doesn't get to feed him before we leave, so we have about a half an hour to transform this into something acceptable for our brother to be seen in.”

Glaring at her lightly, he teased, “You remember I'm not **really** your brother, right?”

Valya's eyes narrowed as she scolded. “What did I say? Sit still and shut up! Seriously . . . it is not that hard.” Turning to her best friends, she insisted, “If we've only got a half an hour, we should get to work. We're going to need every second of it.”

Roman's indignant “Hey!” was drowned out as the girls chimed in together, “And **BREAK**!!”

Half an hour later, they each stepped back with a combined, “Voila!” 

Minna offered the young Atrian a mirror and Roman stared in shock. He barely recognized himself in the mirror. His fringe had been trimmed into a respectable cut, wispy bangs that fluttered attractively over his forehead. His old jeans had been swapped out for a pair of nicer, acid washed ones that Marina had just purchased for him – and hadn't THAT been embarrassing to be practically naked except for his t-shirt and boxers in front of the three girls who were practically his sisters? – and a dark cardigan had been added over the top of the t-shirt he'd already chosen. His shoes had been swapped out for a pair of sturdy work boots and there was a hastily braided knot bracelet around one wrist. His necklaces had been allowed to remain after a lengthy debate, that he still wasn't **entirely** certain he'd actually won. His tracking bracelet was still around his wrist, but Valya had found an old cuff of her uncle's to hide it under and he felt almost normal with it on. 

He'd balked at the idea of adding a little mascara to his barely there eyelashes, but Katenka had applied the makeup expertly despite his thrashing. He'd never admit it, but it was artfully done and it made his blue, blue eyes stand out even more. He couldn't even tell he was wearing makeup but if Drake ever found out, he was fairly certain that he would never hear the end of it. Standing back, Katenka surveyed their handiwork and nodded with a grin, “More than acceptable.” 

Glowering at her lightly, he snarked dryly, “I'm glad that I meet your approval.”

“Hush you . . . come on, we should get something to eat or it's going to be a long time until lunch,” Minna insisted, prodding him to his feet and shoving him kindly towards the door. “Aunt Kee is a stickler about breakfast . . . most important meal of the day and all that jazz.”

Prodding him out of the room and towards the kitchen, Valya cheered, “And the conquering heroes return from their battle against social suicide! Ta-da!”

Marina turned from where she was singing quietly at the stove, eyes smiling as she turned to face her blushing foster son. Taking in the change of attire and the cleaner cut of his hair, she nodded once and promised, “You look very nice, Roman.”

His blushed burned even hotter in his cheeks as he replied, “Thank you.”

Offering him a loaded plate, she gestured toward the kitchen table. “The Sector bus is leaving in about 20 minutes so you four should eat and quickly. They're going to have to scan Roman's bracelet before they let him out of the Sector.”

“Still can't do anything about that, huh?” Sam yawned, his body elongated into a wide stretch as he stepped into the kitchen. Accepting his plate from Marina, he bent to press a warm kiss to her cheek, before straddling one of the chairs and proceeding to demolish his breakfast. 

“Working on it,” Marina growled, her displeasure at the tracking bracelets visible in her features. Glancing down at her watch, she sighed heavily, before moving into the hallway with a mug of steaming coffee and a breakfast sandwich. “Misha! We're going to be late to catch the bus with the kids!”

The twins immediately grinned as their father suddenly appeared, talking rapidly in some language that Roman didn't recognize as his hands fussed at his tie. Rolling her eyes, Marina shoved the mug into one hand and the sandwich into the other, before undertaking the responsibility herself. “Oh Misha . . . what would you do without me?” she teased, going up on tiptoes to accept his morning kiss. 

“Waste away, I'm sure,” he promised, kissing her upturned cheek once more before taking a bracing sip of his coffee. “Ah . . . manna from heaven. Thank God!”

Marina cocked an eyebrow at the reverence there, causing the Colonel to grin at her and insist, “And you, of course, _samaya malen'kaya_. My very own Saint.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” she laughed, running one hand over Sam's hair as the younger man helped himself to seconds. “Coming with us, Sam?”

“Probably . . . you're going to need some muscle just to get the Atrians into the school building. And getting to watch you kick ass never gets old, Marina.”

Chuckling, Marina pressed a warm kiss to the crown of his head as she took her own place at the table with her own steaming mug of coffee. Roman's head cocked as he took in the smells coming from the drink, asking quietly, “That smells like cinnamon and vanilla.” 

“It's flavored coffee, but even the decaf kind still has a little caffeine, so that's a no go, kiddo.” Smiling as he moved to shake his head, “There are other kinds of drinks though that you could have that would be just as good, if you want me to look into it for you.” 

Frowning, he shook his head slowly, “I don't know . . . I'll think about it.”

Nodding in agreement, Marina turned back towards where her youngest child was just now emerging from his room. Smiling, she signed something quickly and received a brilliant grin and a giggle in reply. Trystan took a seat beside his father, sitting patiently for his father's usual temple peck, before digging into his food voraciously. Cocking her head, Marina signed along as she asked her lover, “Does he look taller to you? I think he might be going through a growth spurt.”

Will chuckled as he teased, “Great . . . as though this family doesn't go through its own weight in food already. Add a teenage boy with hunger pains, and our entire monthly budget is going solidly through the floor.”

Trystan grinned widely around a full mouth of food, though he said nothing in response to the statement. Chuckling, Marina drained her coffee, before standing to place the empty mug in the sink. Signing quickly, she cocked an eyebrow at her son when he waved away the statement with a heavy sigh. Reaching out, she gripped his chin lightly and turned him to face her, signing emphatically, “O-K?”

Rolling his eyes, Trystan returned the sign agreeably, earning a teasing pinch to one cheek and a loud raspberry against the opposite one. Bursting into giggles, he dodged away from the sensation. Marina relented at an emphatic gesture, letting him go without protest. Taking a deep breath, she looked up at the clock on the wall and released it on a sigh. “All right, _rebyata_ , time for school. Let's go.”

Taking a long last drink of his milk, Roman pushed himself away from the table and followed the Trio to get their things for school. The Colonel rested his hand on his shoulder as he stopped him for a moment. “Are you ready for this?”

Looking up in those color changing eyes, Roman took stock of the question for a moment and then nodded. “I have to be, don't I? We all want Integration to work and if we can't get through the first day of school, it's never going to work . . . right?”

“That doesn't mean that you shouldn't be nervous. It's kind of a big deal. Despite all the good that Rene and Nina and Darcy have done to the Atrians' image, there are still going to be a lot of people protesting outside the school . . . insisting that they don't want you there. Are you ready for that?”

Taking a deep breath, he nodded firmly. “I am the son of the _Iksen_ . . . I don't have the luxury of not being ready. Everything I do, everything I am, has to be for the good of my people. And this is for the good of my people . . . freedom from the Sector, freedom to be our own people without need for fear or discrimination.” 

Will chuckled at the mini-speech, shaking his head in amusement. “You know what . . . we'll revisit this conversation later. I think we might be crossing wires here.”

Grabbing up his keys and wallet, Will tucked them into their appropriate places in his uniform. Turning to his partner, who was pulling up the zippers on what he called her “Ass kicking boots”, he leered at her and earned a soft punch in the shoulder. “That is quite enough of that,” she scolded fondly, even as she gave him a quick peck on the cheek. Shoving a knife into the built in sheath in her left boot, she slipped a gun into the holster under her arm. Turning back to the odd looking quartet, she asked, “Are we ready?”

Valya grinned as she drawled, “Let's go kick this school's _**ass**_!”

Marina only chuckled, unable to fault the statement, even if she didn't approve of the language it was made in. Wrapping an arm around her oldest daughter's shoulder, she squeezed fondly and asked despairingly, “Oh my Val . . . whatever am I going to do with you?”

“Sell her to the circus?” Katenka asked cheerfully, “Because I can totally get behind that idea.” 

“Or I can just take over the world and watch you do the monkey tricks instead.”

Will's tone was severe as he scolded, “What have we said about the circus jokes?”

Both girls grimaced as they remembered where their father and uncles had grown up, and both apologized instantly, “Sorry Daddy.”

Rubbing at the migraine he could feel building over his left eye, he waved the apology away. “Let's . . . let's just get going, okay? We're going to be late, and that's not exactly the first impression I want the Atrian 7 to be making.”

Marina looped her elbow into her lover's elbow, and gestured magnanimously towards the door. “Forward march, men!” she ordered fondly. 

Jolting to a stop at the realization that Trystan was not with them, Roman asked, “Wait . . . what about Trystan?”

“Trystan is going to be attending the Sector school here. Aaron and Marta will be here in about an hour with Max and June to make sure he gets there on time.” Smiling at his obvious concern, Marina insisted, “He's going to have a good interpreter at the Sector school and he's more than capable of keeping up with the rest of the students . . . I mean, you remember his IQ right?”

Grinning sheepishly, he nodded, “Yeah . . . Tryst always makes sure to remind me that he's smarter than me.”

Rolling her eyes, she chuckled, “And yet, it's a hassle to get him to pick out socks that match his clothes. I wouldn't worry about who is smarter than who. He's book smarter, but that doesn't make him everything else smarter too.”

Sam appeared then, hopping on one foot as he hauled on his boots, his hair obviously finger combed and his old S.H.I.E.L.D. hoodie on over his jeans and t-shirt, his last name in stark white lettering under the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo on his left breast. There was half a bagel shoved in his mouth and he munched contentedly even as he tied the laces on his boots. Cocking an eyebrow at the old blue hoodie, Will asked, “You think that's a good idea?”

Sam accepted the handgun Marina offered him and slipped it into the holster fastened at the small of his back. “It's been 10 years since HYDRA destroyed everything we believed S.H.I.E.L.D. was. I think it's about time to remember that we did good work there, even if not everything we hoped for was happening.”

Shrugging, Will grinned as he conceded, “Fair enough.” 

Zipping up the front of the cardigan, Sam joked, “So . . . are we going now? Cause I thought you didn't want to be late, Will.”

Rolling his eyes, the Colonel shoved him fondly out the open door. “Smart ass.”

Marina chuckled as she moved into step with her partner, leading the motley crew down the stairwell to ground level and towards the front gates. Looking up at her lover, she asked, “Who all is coming with us to the school?”

“You, me, the rest of your sisters, Owen and Sam. You four can provide the maternal scariness while the boys provide the muscle. Agreed?”

“I am all for this plan,” Marina laughed as Owen moved to join them, booming out, “Sup Boss-man!” 

Will laughed as the boisterous former assassin wrapped his arms around his former superior and literally bear hugged off the ground. “Put me down, you moron!” Will laughed, stumbling a little as he was suddenly released. “Damn it, Lucky . . . I think you busted a rib.”

“I'm sure you'll live, Boss,” he laughed, leaning forward to exchange a warm hug with Marina. “How you doing, Boss-lady? You keeping him in line?”

“I'm trying . . . but he's about as difficult to manage as a porcupine with a hangover.”

Will's face was betrayed as he burst into startled laughter, “Thank you!”

Marina shrugged with a smirk, as Owen considered the statement and nodded slowly, announcing, “Yeah . . . I can see that. Although you should have seen him on that assignment in Syria . . . talk about a surly son of a bitch.”

“I can still relegate you to latrine duty, Lucky,” Will reminded his best friend with a fond scowl. 

The former Cleaner grinned as he teased, “Eh . . . you'd miss me too much.”

“At the moment, the very idea is debatable,” the Colonel insisted with a roll of his eyes. Seeing the other six Atrian students lined up against the bus, he gestured Roman forward to take his place with them. Nodding in agreement, Roman moved to stand beside his best friend, accepting the warm arm clasp and the laughing greeting. Sophia grinned at the sight of her brother and lunged at him, allowing herself to be lifted into a warm hug by the older of the two. 

Smiling at the easy camaraderie, Will turned back to Owen. “Everyone present and accounted for?”

“Yep, the other six have already been scanned out, so it's just Roman we were waiting on.” Glancing over, Owen frowned at the immediate lack of the silver tracking bracelet. “He does HAVE a tracker right?”

Valya chimed in then, “It's under the cuff . . . we wanted him to make a good impression. Future king or whatever.”

Marina's tone was amused as she replied, “Future _Iksen_ , sweetie, not quite a king.”

“Whatever, terminology is not really important. _Iksen_ , king . . . badass, kickass . . . all means the same thing in the end,” the older twin laughed with a grin.

Minna rolled her eyes at the statement, “Tell that to the British Army after the War of 1812. Pretty sure they were pretty badass, but they didn't exactly kick ass did they?”

“Really!? You have to go back three hundred years to make a valid point here!?” Valya demanded, as she followed the older girl onto the bus. 

Katenka sighed as she followed, insisting, “And this is why you always fail math, Val . . . good grief, this is even basic math. 1812 was two hundred and twelve years ago, not three hundred.”

Valya leaned out the window as she teased her sister, “Good thing we're identical, then huh? Want to take my math class for me?”

Marina cocked an eyebrow at the statement, causing Valya to backtrack quickly, “Totally kidding, Mama! I would never do that, honest!”

Marina's arms folded over her chest as she watched her daughter with narrowed eyes. “I'm not entirely sure I believe you right now.”

Valya gave her mother a brilliantly innocent smile, before ducking back into the bus. Will chuckled at the exchange, pressing lightly on the small of Marina's back. “We're running late, let's go. Everybody in the bus,” he insisted, waving one hand towards the doorway. 

Clint and Bucky were lounging together with Darcy in the very back bench seat, causing two pairs of raised eyebrows from the partners. “All right . . . this isn't a field trip, _domashniy_ ,” Marina reminded them lightly. 

“Rene suggested that Darcy be there to handle the press and like hell are Buck or I letting her go alone. Not a chance in hell, Marishka.”

Accepting that answer, Marina turned to her former mentor and ordered firmly, “That arm stays hidden, agreed?”

“No one's even going to know I'm there. I've got my kit, the bus is going to let me off about a mile from the school and I'm going to be watching the whole thing go down through a sniper scope from a roof across the street,” Bucky agreed. “Clint's going to be the hands on bodyguard . . . he's prettier than I am and a national hero to boot.”

Darcy elbowed the older of her boyfriend's hard in the ribs. “I don't even want to hear about the whole 'national hero' bullshit, **Command Sergeant Major Barnes**. You're just as much a hero as Clint or Steve or anyone . . . and even if you weren't a national hero, you're still **my** hero so kindly shut your trap unless you're using it productively.”

Grinning, Bucky leaned over and caught her frowning mouth in a hot kiss, pulling back only long enough to whisper against her lips, “Does this count?”

Darcy's eyes were molten as she yanked him forward by his collar, “Don't fuck with me, Barnes, I'm pregnant and hormonal and I will string you up by your ballsack. Understood?”

Grinning, he kissed her once again, before settling her comfortably between the two men. Will and Marina took one of the seats just in front of them, with Natasha and Vika together in the one next to them while Nika and Sam shared the bench in front of them. The Trio were sharing the single bench in front of the two Colonels, already swapping pranks in rapid-fire Quebecois, with Sam's eager input and suggestions causing peals of giggles. Owen slipped into the driver's seat and the rest of the Atrians were scattered through the rest of the bus, Roman and his sister exchanging excited anecdotes about what had been happening since the last time they had seen each other a few days ago. 

Sure enough, Owen slowed the bus about a mile from the school and Bucky hefted his sniper kit over his shoulder. Kissing Darcy one last time, he bent to kiss Clint too and insisted, “Take care of her for us.”

“Always,” Clint promised, cuddling the woman against him tightly. “We'll see you soon.”

Grinning over his shoulder at the doorway, the Winter Soldier laughed, “I'll see you before you see me.”

“Wanna bet?” Clint teased, earning a warm laugh before Bucky disappeared from the interior of the bus and scaled the side of the building next to them like it was a stairwell. 

Will twisted to look at the two, asking fondly, “You okay, Darcy?”

“Considering all the work that has gone into this, I **really** want this to work. My blood pressure cannot handle any more problems.”

“Problems?” Marina inquired, glancing at her sisters in question. 

Taking a deep breath, Darcy considered for a moment before shaking her head. “They'll probably be at the school. I'll let you see for yourselves.”

It was only once they arrived that Marina knew what she was talking about. She was immediately on her feet, pressing her hands to the glass as she swore viciously. “What the fuck are they doing here!?”

Pushing his partner back down into the seat so that he could see around her, Will looked out through the window and sighed. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Natasha stood and craned to see over the two, her jaw tightening as she took in the “Death to the Cahills” posters that some of the protesters were carrying. “Well . . . looks like that cat's out of the bag.”

Marina shoved past her lover and stormed towards the front of the bus. She was almost to the door when Will called out, “Marina, no killing!” 

Freezing in place, and more than aware of the Atrians staring at her in shock, she took a deep breath and then turned back to her partner. “But what if someone really **needs** killing?”

Will took a moment to think about it, before sighing heavily, “Then I guess someone's going to die. Just try to keep the body count reasonable. I really don't want to have to explain that kind of crazy to the Brass.”

Giving her lover a small smirk, the entire bus watched as the woman who had been Lt. Colonel Marina Petrovka only moments before suddenly morphed into the lethally talented _Gadyuka_. Cocking her head at him, she replied, “I'm not sure I give a damn about what the Brass thinks right now.” Glancing at her sisters, she asked, “Coming?”

Nika grinned as she shoved herself to her feet and moved after the youngest sister, “The Merry Murderesses rise again.”

Vika agreed, “We're with you, always.”

“Awesome . . . let's show these assholes what happens when you fuck with my family.”

It wasn't until after the four former assassins had exited the bus, that Darcy chimed in, “This is going to be a PR nightmare . . . and I can't even bring myself to care.”

Clint chuckled as he moved to get a better view of what was going to be an excellent fight. “At some point, _peresmeshnika_ , people just run out of fucks to give.”

“And I am long past this point. You're a Cahill, baby, and those jackasses want you dead. After everything you've done for this country, they just see the fact that you were manufactured, not born.” Scowling, she hissed, “Assholes. I hope Marina breaks all of their necks.”

When Marina stepped from the bus, she was immediately assaulted by the shouts and screams of the protesters standing behind a police barricade. Frowning, she snatched the megaphone from the police officer standing to her left. Lifting it to her mouth, she spoke into the speaker, “I'm going to make this very simple. You all have ten seconds to clear out of here, before we clear you out!” 

“You can't do that! We have the right to express our free speech!” one woman screamed from the back of the group. 

“Yes, you do. But not to advertise death threats against men who have been declared national heroes by the fucking president himself. So if you know what is good for you, you're going to leave before I count to ten. If you don't, I assure you . . . you will wish you had.”

Natasha sighed as her sister began to count down from ten, announcing, “If there was ever a moment I missed my Widow's Bite, it would be now.”

“Wishing you could electrocute a few people, huh?” Nika laughed with a wicked grin. 

“Yeah . . . wringing their necks just seems too kind almost,” the redhead replied, just as Marina called out, “ONE!”

Setting the megaphone down inside the bus, she looked up at Owen and ordered, “Close the doors . . . do not open them again until you see me. Understood? No matter what Misha threatens you with, I need you to promise me, Lucky.”

“I promise . . . I'll keep them all safe.”

“Thank you, Owen.” Watching the doors slide closed in front of her, she waited to hear the hydraulics of the door shut off, before returning her attention towards the crowd again. “ _Raspalas'. . . nesmertel'ny , naskol'ko eto vozmozhno_. (Split up . . . nonlethal as much as possible.)”

“ _Da_ ,” was the resounding agreement, before the four literally flowed into the crowd. 

Almost instantly the four assassins had the attentions of the entire bus, as the Atrians rushed forward to watch them drop one person after another into some state of unconsciousness or incapacity. Drake was in awe, breathing, “Oh my God . . . it's beautiful.”

“Of course a _Vwasak_ would think that,” came the scoffing response from Teri, who was nevertheless glued to the window just like the rest of her friends. 

It was a quick fight, with the women being the only four people still standing within fifteen minutes. Looking around at the moaning and groaning protesters, Marina caught sight of the banner that had initially pissed her off. Storming over to it, she snatched it up, shoved the stick into the ground so that it stood on its own and then dug in her pocket for a lighter. The Zippo flashed across her thigh, the flame leaping brightly in her hand before she touched it to the corner. The cardboard and heavy spray paint caught fire almost instantly and it wasn't long before the entire banner was in flames. Flicking the flame out again, she picked her way back to the bus and banged on the door fiercely. 

Owen pulled the doors open and jogged quickly down the steps, punching straight down into the face of someone who was struggling to climb back to his feet. “If you know what's good for you, asshole, you're going to stay down until we're out of sight. She's got permission to kill someone and I don't think it'll take much for her to decide to chuck the idea of less lethal and go straight for the broken neck.”

Smirking at the truth in that statement, Marina climbed into the bus and shouted, “Hurry up! Everybody off!” 

One by one the Atrians filed off the bus, staring in awe at the still motionless protesters littering their path into the school. Roman paused briefly next to Marina, insisting, “Impressive.”

Grinning at him, she hugged him briefly, promising him firmly, “I protect what's mine, Roman . . . no matter what. Remember that, okay?”

Smiling at her, he agreed, “I won't forget.”

Cupping his cheek fondly, she shooed him off after the rest of his friends. “Go on . . . I'm pretty sure the entire school's turned out to see you. And Roman?”

“Yeah?”

“Stay close to your sister and the Trio, okay? The Trio will protect you from the worst of the discrimination. And trust me, there will be some. Just keep calm and don't lose your temper.” 

Nodding sheepishly, he promised, “I'll try.” 

Turning away, he jogged towards where the Trio and Sophia had stopped by the doors to wait for him. The girls linked arms with Sophia and Roman, making sure to keep the two Atrians between them. Looking up at the sounds of people, Valya smirked at the sight of the entire student body crowding in at the railings, lining both upper levels and the stairwells. “What the hell is this? A clam bake? You'd think we were Angelina Jolie Pitt or something equally ridiculous.”

“I don't know . . .” Minna laughed, “I'm at least as hot as Angelina Jolie Pitt . . . hotter even.”

“Yeah . . . that's not hard,” Katenka scoffed with a roll of her eyes. 

At the affront to one of her favorite actresses and humanitarians, Valya blurted viciously, “Slander and calumny! Blasphemy! A plague on you, a plague on your family, a plague on your cow!” 

“Okay first of all, you're my sister, so you're plaguing yourself. Secondly, we don't OWN a cow.”

“Eh . . . semantics.”

Katenka's eyebrow raised as she laughed, “Not really.”

“Shut the fuck up . . . stop being so fucking reasonable, Kat! For once, just please . . . be irrational or better yet, pretend to be a normal teenager.”

“But we're not normal . . . why would I want to pretend to be one of the idiots staring down at us like we're contaminated with some kind of infectious disease or something?”

“Oooh . . . I wonder if Aunt Marta would let us borrow that virus she cooked up for Agent Harrison. Festering pustules . . . exploding diarrhea . . . we could totally watch everyone swell up like birthday balloons. It would be awesome!” Valya cheered, earning a long suffering sigh from the younger sister. “Dad made Aunt Marta promise to destroy that virus, remember?” 

“Ugh . . .” the girl huffed, “I had forgotten about that.”

Minna chuckled as she shrugged, “We could always ask her to recreate it?”

“Do you think she would?”

“Only one way to find out,” came the wicked reply from the witch hunter's daughter. 

“Oh yeah, sure . . . and watch Dad kill us one after the other once he found out. Nah . . . we should probably be more subtle about this,” Katenka insisted, before noticing that Roman was staring upwards in growing awe. Smirking, she leaned around him and hissed at her sister, “We need to talk . . .”

Valya turned and saw the look on Roman's face, following his line of sight to a pretty brunette with a smirk. Looking back and forth between them, she silently approved. The girl was pretty and Roman seemed pretty well besotted. “Aw . . . that's adorable,” she giggled, earning a sharp blush and a glare from Roman on one side and a “What is?” from Sophia on the other. 

“Nothing, Soph . . . don't worry about it. Come on . . . our homeroom is this way. Katenka hates being late, especially on the first day of anything.”

“Says the girl who once missed the entire first half of her own piano recital,” the younger twin scoffed with a roll of her eyes. 

“I wasn't playing in the first half. Why should I be bored to tears if I don't actually have to care? Ugh . . . besides, Vivaldi is awesome and Beethoven is cliched.”

Katenka only rolled her eyes at the statement. “Come on . . . we really are going to be late. And I was pretty sure that Roman and the rest of the Atrians were supposed to meet with Dad and Gloria Garcia this morning about the expectations for the program.”

“That sounds ominous,” Sophia announced nervously. 

“Nah . . . Dad acts scary but he's really a big kitten, honest. I've never met Ms. Garcia though so I have no idea what she might be like.”

Sophia craned her neck around her brother in question, earning a small grin. “Yeah, the Colonel's cool. I trust him.”

Finally, Valya lost her temper at all the staring. “Hey, dickheads . . . this isn't a circus act and I ain't a bearded lady! Move the fuck along, before I make you, _dong le ma_?”

Minna sighed as she linked elbows with her best friends, “All right . . . let's go save seats for these two, so that they aren't stuck at the front of the class like total rejects.” Glancing back over her shoulder, she promised, “My brother made sure that you'd both have at least one of us in a class with you at all times, so get used to seeing us around.” Winking at Roman, she teased, “Maybe, if you're lucky, you'll see more than just us in a class or two.”

Glaring at her fiercely, he watched as the three girls started to laugh as they walked away, cutting a path through the crowded hallways like a hot knife through butter. Sophia smiled longingly as she watched them go, her hand linked in her brother's elbow. “They're so awesome . . . I wish I could be that confident and just not care what people thought about me.”

“They are something else,” Roman agreed, as they walked down the hallway toward where they would be meeting with Will, Marina and the mysterious Gloria Garcia. “Maybe it's just cause I've spent the last week under the same roof with them, but they're really not all that complicated. They're loyal and fierce and kickass, but anyone could be those things, if they chose to be.”

“Hm, maybe you could . . . but I couldn't be. I don't think I could ever have the guts to be that person. I'm too used to being Nox's daughter.”

“Takes some getting used to, but I'll bet you, you could,” he argued, as he pulled open the door to the classroom just as the final bell rang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations: 
> 
> (R) Misha/Mishka - diminutive of Mikhail (Michael) in Russia (Will's middle name is Michael. Marina's most common nickname for Will)  
> (R) samaya malen'kaya - my little one (Will's most common nickname for Marina)  
> (R) rebyata - children/boys/troublemakers  
> (R) domashniy - pet (an interchangeable nickname Marina uses for almost all of her boys)   
> (R) Gadyuka - viper (Marina's call sign, given to her by the _Akademiya_ and it's _Krasnaya Komnata_ )  
> (R) peresmeshnika - mockingbird (Clint's nickname for his girlfriend, Darcy Lewis)  
> (R) Da/net - Yes/no  
> (C) dong le ma? - do you understand?   
> (R)


	7. BAMF Girls Are Awesome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NO translations. Thank you for all the comments. I appreciate them more than I can see. Please leave me more!
> 
> Also, new chapter up on the main UALP as well, so check that out when you can. Enjoy!

[](http://s66.photobucket.com/user/GalahadsGurl/media/THE%20UALP/TrioofTerror.jpg.html)

Chapter Seven: BAMF Girls Are Awesome

Will was already seated at the desk, marking on some paperwork as Marina lounged comfortably on the corner of the desk, picking at her fingernails with a wicked looking knife . . . that was NOT the one Roman had seen her put into her boot that morning before they'd left the house. A coffee skinned woman in a cream colored skirt-suit was standing in front of them, attempting to speak to them, though neither of them was paying her much attention. Hiding his smirk behind his hand, Roman guided his sister to a seat and then took one of his own. 

Marina looked up at him through her lashes, and nudged her lover briefly with her toe. “Everyone is now present and accounted for, Colonel.”

“Good . . . I only want to say this once.” Looking up at Roman, he cocked an eyebrow. “Late is what, Roman?”

Roman grimaced as he remembered the first rule he'd learned in the Colonel's home. “Five minutes before you're supposed to be somewhere,” he recited. “Sorry, Will.”

“It's okay . . . my sister and daughters are Forces of Nature . . . I'm sure they're already causing trouble.”

“And spreading gossip,” Marina sing-songed, looking up from her nails with a smirk. “I'm sure the whole school has heard about the little display outside, when you first got here. So I would assume that you kids won't be bothered too much today. If you are, let one of us know . . . we have our methods of guaranteeing your safety while you're in school.”

“There are guards here, supposedly to protect you,” Will announced, pushing himself to his feet. “Really, let's be honest. They are here to keep you in check, to prevent you from getting too friendly with anyone and they're not going to step in to help you. I'm working on getting this guard rotation changed out, because frankly, I don't like a single one of these people and I especially don't like them in a school setting with lots of pretty teenage girls running around. If you take my meaning.”

The unknown woman glared at the older man, before spinning back on one heel to face the Atrians. “Before we get too carried away, let me introduce myself. I am Gloria Garcia. I am the primary authority in charge of the Integration program. Colonel Grimm and I are working closely together to make sure this program's a success, with the assistance of Nox, of course.”

Marina sighed as she shifted in her place, watching her lover do silent battle with his new “ally”. She could tell, which meant Will could tell, that the woman was withholding secrets and telling half-truths, if not outright lies. The Colonel rarely played well with others; he didn't play at all with those he didn't like, and Gloria Garcia was quickly climbing that list. Pushing herself to her feet, she took her usual place at Will's side, arms folding over her chest as she took in the seven students before her. “This is going to be a work in progress, and we are all counting on you to make it a complete success. Regrettably, we are at the mercy of the school board when we are outside of Sector. As of this point, you will only be allowed outside of Sector during school hours. That means, no after school sports, no after school clubs, nothing that will keep you outside of Sector outside of school hours.”

Will raised his voice at the resulting murmur, insisting, “Lt. Colonel Petrovka and I are doing what we can to change that. However, for the moment, I need the seven of you to be perfect angels. Excel in your classes, charm your teachers, **attempt** to make friends with some of the humans. My daughters, Valentina and Yekaterina, and my much younger sister, Minna Kuhn, are three excellent people to start with. I'm sure they will guarantee you opportunities to branch out from there.”

“No fighting, no trouble . . . if we hear about any issues, I can assure you that there are other Atrian teenagers who are more than capable of taking your places. Do I make myself clear?” Marina insisted, scanning the room with icy chocolate eyes, a single eyebrow cocked in silent question. 

Each of the seven nodded, though Drake and Teri at least did not look happy about it. “Integration is a slow and painstaking process . . . but if we all work together towards this goal, I promise you . . . we will all live to see it happen.” Glancing down at his watch, he glanced at Marina and nodded once. “With that said, our meeting is over. Head on to your next classes. Starting tomorrow, you'll begin homeroom on time with the rest of your classmates, in your assigned homeroom classes. However, as today is the first day, we arranged for you to meet with us here first.” 

“I am positive that we can count on each of you to help this program succeed,” Marina insisted, scanning the room calmly. “And if we can't . . . well, we'll find someone we can. Thank you for coming to meet with us. You are dismissed to classes.”

The rest of the morning passed almost in a blur. It wasn't till lunch that Roman saw the girl again, the girl he somehow knew was the same girl from that shed ten years ago. Katenka's tone was teasing as she sat down at the table across from him, “Her name is Emery Whitehill . . . she's 16 and she's been out of school for the last four years, though no one can tell me why.”

Glancing at her briefly, Roman returned his attention back down onto the lunch he'd been provided from the cafeteria dispensaries. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

Katenka's smile was fond as she replied, “Of course you don't.”

Valya hopped up onto the table just then, grimacing down at his meal. “Ew. What the hell is that?”

“My lunch,” Roman replied, poking at it warily with his fork. 

“Uh no. Take mine,” the older twin insisted, moving towards the dispensaries and choosing something from her expanded options. “Talk about segregation. This is ridiculous.”

“Make sure he's not allergic to anything in there before you give it to him.”

Valya's eyebrow cocked upwards at her sister's over-protectiveness, as she dug in her backpack for her portion of the lunch Marina had packed for her daughters. “I was gonna give him what Mama packed for me. This was supposed to be for me.”

“Oh . . . okay.”

“Dude, protective much?” she teased, nose wrinkling in amusement. 

“Dad would kill us if he died of anaphylactic shock on the very first day of school.”

“Which would be why you and Min and I all have Epipens in our backpacks,” she reminded her with a fond smirk. 

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

It was about then that one of the teenagers that Valya had been referring to as “RedAsses” approached the table where they were sitting. “What the hell do you think you're doing, Tattie? Think you're suddenly good enough for our women?”

Roman watched as both Valya and Katenka both stiffened in fury at the insinuation, but it was the snarling tone from the oldest member of the Trio. “That seems to imply, that YOU think you're good enough for your women. And from where I'm standing, that is not the case.”

Whirling around, he smirked at the tall teenager standing there, arms folded over her chest and her features set into a perfect imitation of Hansel Kuhn's “I will kill you where you stand” look. Giving her a smarmy grin, the young man – Roman was pretty sure he'd been one of his earlier classes that morning, and that his name was Eric – moved forward to run the back of his fingers down her exposed forearm. “Give me five minutes alone with that luscious body, baby, and I bet I could change your tune.”

Katenka smirked at the comment, as Valya snarked, “Smoke him, Min.”

A wide grin crept across Minna's face in response as she all but purred, “Again, that's assuming you could last that long.”

Grabbing the hand, she twisted his arm sharply and forced him to follow the motion in order to prevent a dislocation. This left him bent over with his back to her, giving her the perfect avenue to swing back her opposite fist and then snap up sharply between his legs and directly onto his balls. Every young male in the room, even the Atrian ones, winced at the action and every single one of them down to the last reached down to check his own unprotected package. Meanwhile, the kid collapsed like a sack of potatoes and Minna released his arm as he fell, snarling, “Get lost, little bitch, before I make you completely incapable of ever having children.”

Valya grinned as she moved to jump upwards onto the table, shouting, “All right. So I'm only going to say this once, so pay attention the first time. The Atrians, and specifically THIS Atrian, are off limits. You fuck with them and you fuck with us. And I can guarantee you, any one of us can kick your ass faster than you can say 'boo'. So don't try. Okay?” Smirking at the shell shocked looks on the faces of the entire cafeteria, Valya flipped the whole room off as she announced, “I'm glad we all understand each other.” 

Jumping from the table, she straddled the seat next to her sister and reached to grab a carrot from the side of Katenka's plate. “Nuh-uh! You gave your lunch to Roman . . . Eat your processed food and keep your grimy fingers out of mine!”

“But Kat . . .” Valya whined, even as she did as told. 

“Not a chance in hell!”

Roman attempted to offer her her lunch back, earning a look from the oldest twin that seemed to imply he needed his head examined. Katenka smiled and spoke up in her sister's stead, “Eat, Roman . . . lunch is almost over and you haven't touched anything.”

“But it's not my lunch.”

“It became your lunch the second Valya handed it over. So yes, it's your lunch . . . eat,” Minna ordered with a fond grin. Turning back to her best friends, she rolled her eyes. “I'm confused. Aren't humans supposed to be a superior race . . . with upper brain function, and common sense, or whatever?”

“Yeah . . . but that's only the women. Men tend to think with their dicks, which makes them stupid by default.”

Roman chuckled as he inquired, “You remember I'm a male of my species, right?”

“Yeah, but you're not human. So you don't fall into this category,” Minna replied with a grin, snatching up one of Katenka's homemade rice cakes and biting into it to the accompaniment of her indignant squawk. 

“Consider yourself fortunate,” Valya agreed with a wink. “After all, you just saw what Minna did to the moron still moaning on the floor . . . trust me, you do not want to be on her shit list. Which is currently where all human males seem to be right now.”

Katenka cocked an eyebrow in question as she inquired, “Why is that exactly?”

“I'm not in the mood for stupid, and every guy who has hit on me today, has offered to . . . shall we say? . . . expand my horizons . . . in a storage closet . . . on campus . . . as though that's romantic.”

Katenka chuckled, “Maybe you should fuck an Atrian. According to our biology teacher, Atrians mature faster . . . may be worth your while.”

“I think I'm just going to be content with my Vibe and some good old fashioned imagination.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Katenka agreed with a grin, watching the blush grow upwards from Roman's neckline and to his hairline. “Roman . . . you okay?”

“I . . . yeah. I'm just going to pretend this last conversation never happened.”

The three girls giggled as they replied in unison, “Probably a good plan.”

Rolling his eyes, Roman looked down at his lunch and pretended to ignore them as they changed the subject to the gossip Katenka had gleaned about the lovely Emery Whitehill. Valya twisted, smiling at the sight of the pretty brunette on the other side of the room, laughing with a young black teenager, the two obviously close friends. “She's pretty . . . of course, Roman has a crush.”

“I do not,” Roman protested, wincing immediately at the triumphant smirk that crept across Minna's face. 

“So you are paying attention. That's good to know,” she laughed, tossing the last of her drink back as she swallowed the last drops. “You want to tell me why you're so interested in her?”

Taking a deep breath, Roman considered how long he could feasibly avoid the question before giving it up as a bad job. Even a week with the Trio had taught him the depths of their tenacity; when they wanted something, they were like a dog with a bone until they got it. “Ten years ago, on Arrival Day, after the crash, there was a fight between my people and the humans. My father told me to run . . . I was only six . . . but I did as I was told and I found a shed to hide in. There was a human girl, the same age as me . . . she brought me a blanket to keep me warm and cold spaghetti the next morning to feed me. She was kind to me and she saved my life.” Shrugging, he rubbed at the back of his neck, he explained, “The first time I saw Emery, I suddenly had this flash of the girl and a bizarre craving for cold spaghetti.”

Katenka, the World's Premiere Romantic, sighed at the story, drawling, “Aw . . . that's adorable.”

Valya only rolled her eyes as she munched on a processed celery stick. “Seriously, Katenka, this isn't exactly a Disney movie. First, we gotta figure out how to get Romeo **with** his Juliet.”

Roman's head immediately began shaking at the statement, “No. My people would never stand for it . . . their _Iksen_ in love with a human girl?! It can't happen.”

“Roman, you're a teenaged boy. And I believe you were the one who told my Uncles that Atrians don't determine attraction based on gender. Don't you think that same idea extends to species?”

Roman's jaw flapped for a moment in shock, before his jaw clicked shut. “I'd never thought of it that way before.”

“Of course you didn't. You're a guy and are therefore an idiot,” Minna replied, rolling her eyes as she shoved herself to her feet to get something else to drink. 

“Wait . . . I'm confused. Do I fall into her man hating or not? I thought because I wasn't human, I was exempt.”

“You're only exempt when you're not being fucking stupid,” Valya chirped with a grin and a brought wink. 

“And I'm being stupid?” he asked curiously. 

“Very.”

“Kay.”

Glancing at her watch, Katenka rolled her eyes and began gathering her things. “I think we all have free period next . . . any idea what we're going to do?”

Valya grinned, cocking an eyebrow at her sister as she replied slyly, “We could always break into the Auditorium . . . a big open stage for you . . . a piano for me . . . and Minna to watch the doors.”

The younger twin chuckled as she rolled her eyes. “You are just bound and determined to get the lot of us expelled on the very first day of school, aren't you?”

Minna cocked an eyebrow over the mouth of her Pepsi as she lowered it from her lips. “Uh . . . who's trying to get us expelled?”

“Valya wants to break into the Auditorium during free period,” Roman replied, looking back and forth between the two twins as they proceeded to glare each other to death. “Katenka seems to think that's a bad idea.”

The oldest of the Trio grinned at the Atrian as she replied, “Uh yeah . . . most of Valya's ideas tend to be bad ones. But occasionally, she has a good one or two.” Turning her attention towards the younger twin, her aunt coaxed, “How long has it been since you got to dance, Kat? On a real stage and not on an empty floor in Uncle Tony's Tower?”

Sighing heavily, Katenka slumped into her seat as she glowered. “That's not a fair question . . . I had that recital three months ago.”

“Which got canceled halfway through your solo, because of an electrical fire,” Valya reminded her sister with a pair of narrowed eyes and a frown. 

“Not the point,” Katenka scoffed with a roll of her eyes. 

Glancing at each other in concerted agreement, both girls reached over and snatched their third out of her chair, announcing simultaneously, “Exactly the point.”

As they were hauling her along, protesting in increasingly agitated Russian all the while, Minna tossed back over her shoulder, “Grab her bag for us, Roman, please? I mean, you are coming right?”

Roman rolled his eyes, even as he did as he was asked, “Do you promise not to tease me about my crush?”

“Roman, be serious . . . of course we don't,” Valya laughed, before the three disappeared from the cafeteria and left a groaning Roman dashing to catch up with them.


	8. Definitions of Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long wait. My grandmother has been very ill and a dear family friend has lost his battle with cancer. It's been a trying few weeks. 
> 
> Enjoy this! The UALP and its subsidiaries been my only comfort in the last few weeks. 
> 
> Translations at the end as always!

[](http://s66.photobucket.com/user/GalahadsGurl/media/THE%20UALP/TrioofTerror.jpg.html)

Chapter Eight: Definitions of Family 

That night, Roman joined his father in their private garden, a sanctuary they had built together so that they could avoid the guards and have at least something of their home planet. Working together in silent camaraderie was soothing, and Roman found himself asking, “Do you miss it?”

Nox looked startled at the question, though he replied easily enough. “You mean Atria? Of course . . . everyday.” Looking around the little space that he and his son had cultivated together, and the view of the forbidden city past the walls, the Atrian leader returned his attention to his son and insisted, “But this is our home now.”

“Sure, home . . . curfew, armed guards and barbed wire in every direction. Not exactly my opinion of home.”

Frowning at the bitterness in his son's tone, Nox transplanted the pot he held deftly then reached to place his hands on both of Roman's shoulders. “Are the Colonels mistreating you? If they are, you may always come home . . . no matter what. I don't care what kind of benefit your fostering is offering our people . . . they are not worth your unhappiness.”

Startled at the thought that his complaining could be perceived in such a way, Roman shook his head. “No, Will and Marina are great. I have no complaints. I just . . . I feel so trapped.”

“Then imagine how those who do not get to leave the Sector at all feel, my son. You are doing good work for our people, Roman . . . you must be patient. Change takes time.”

“It's just . . . they're never going to let us out of here. It doesn't matter what the politicians say . . . we're going to be confined to the Sector forever.”

Looking down at his hands buried deeply in the soil, Nox sighed and considered how best to address his son's concerns. Finally, he spoke, “First rule of being _Iksen_ , Roman . . . your people must never see you lose hope. Hope is stronger than any diamond, fiercer than any predator and more fragile than any thing.” Smiling, he reached into the bag at his left and pulled a cyper seedling from the sack and held it up for his son to see, “Change is like a seed . . . it has an optimal growing season, a process. In order for it to grow and grow well, it must be carefully tended and lovingly maintained. It does not grow overnight, but if you watch carefully, you can see what was once a small seed soon become a beautiful flower.”

Placing the seed into his son's upturned palm, he folded the hands over it firmly. “I need you to be its guardian, a careful gardener of this change. It cannot grow by itself . . . it needs someone to tend it. I have done my part and all that I can do from my position; you are in a much better place than I to see this sprout into something bigger than all of us.”

Taking a deep breath, Roman nodded in agreement, “I will do my best . . . I promise.”

“Then that is all anyone can ask of you.” Leaning forward, he pressed a warm kiss to his son's forehead. “You are young, Roman, and I know your heart does not lie solely within the Sector. But I have faith in you, that you will be a good leader to our people.” Glancing towards the horizon, where the son was only just beginning to slip out of sight, the older man sighed. “I am sure you have homework. You should return home . . . you will need time to finish it.”

Nodding in agreement, Roman pushed himself to his feet. Offering his father the seed once again, he watched as Nox shook his head. “No . . . you keep it, as a reminder.”

Smiling, the Atrian teenager closed his hand around it again. “I won't forget.”

Nox watched as the young man dashed across the rooftops, towards his new quarters with the Sector commander's family. Smiling, he murmured as he watched him run, “I know.”

Roman burst through the door of the Grimm's main pod, skidding to a stop at the sight of Marina at the stove. Eyes narrowing, he asked, “Am I late for dinner?”

“No . . . dinner's not for another half an hour. The girls took their homework to the assembly hall to watch Sam start the retraining process, and Trystan is at the shooting range with Clint. Come . . . wash . . . you can help me set the table before everyone gets home.”

Nodding, he moved to the kitchen sink to scrub the dirt and soil from his hands and wrists. Marina was humming a random song under her breath as she stirred a large pot, before she inquired, “How is your father? Did you have fun?”

“My father is well, thank you for asking. As for the other, maybe not fun, but it was instructive.”

Smiling softly, she agreed, “Parents are good for that kind of thing. Learn anything new?”

“Just that my dad really wants Integration to succeed. And, to be honest, I get the feeling that there's more to that reason than just helping our people.”

“I'm sure your father has good reasons for what he does; and it is not for us to decide whether his secrets should be public knowledge or not.”

“You don't think I should know?”

“I think if you need to know, he will tell you. But in the meantime, I would trust him. He clearly loves you and, whatever his secret, wants only the best for you. Be at peace with that, if you can't be at peace with the rest.”

Nodding, Roman moved to the cabinets and began getting down enough plates for the whole family. The two worked in companionable silence for a long time, Marina returning her attention back to her preparations and that song starting to hum from her throat once again. Trying to place it, Roman paused and just listened for a long time. “That's a beautiful song . . . what is it?”

Roman jumped as a voice began to sing along to the humming, Will stepping into the room and swinging Marina away from the stove. “Sometimes it feels like, I'm gonna break . . . Sometimes this world, gives more than I can take . . . Sometimes, sunshine gets lost in the rain . . . And it keeps pouring down . . . It just keeps coming down . . .” 

The Russian giggled along as she was suddenly waltzing around the room with her partner, his voice a familiar rumble as he sang the words to the song. Picking up at the chorus, the two sang together as they danced, “This life would kill me, if I didn't have you . . . I couldn't live without you baby . . . I wouldn't want to . . . If you didn't love me so much . . . I'd never make it through . . . 'Cause this life would kill me . . . This life would kill me if I didn't have you . . .”

The door opened behind them, followed by the familiar sound of Clint and Aaron's gagging. “Could the parental units find somewhere else to flirt for a minute? It's almost dinner time, and this is not helping the digestion.”

Rolling her eyes, Marina went up on tiptoe to kiss her partner, laughing, “To be continued.”

“As per usual,” he agreed with a wink, offering her a courtly bow as he stepped away. 

Turning back to her boys, the Russian placed her hands on her hips and cocked one eyebrow in question. “All right then . . . if you're not too busy to tease, you're not too busy to help Roman set the table. Hop to it, the both of you.”

“But Marishka!” Clint whined with a pout. 

Giving her youngest a serene smile, she folded her arms over her chest and taunted, “Or you could always do the dishes?” Eyes wide at the thought, Clint practically bounded towards the cabinet to get the glasses down. Smirking, Marina teased, “That's what I thought.”

Leaning over to press a kiss to his favorite place at the curve of her throat and shoulder, Will stepped away. “I'll be right back.”

“Mishka . . . dinner's almost ready. Can't it wait?”

“Two minutes, I promise,” he vowed, with a small grin before ducking out the door at nearly a run. 

Chuckling, Marina shook her head fondly before practically sashaying back to her dinner, spinning briefly on her toes as she once again began to hum the song under her breath. Roman smiled to watch her, shocked at how easily the two officers showed their affection for each other in private, compared to his own parents who could sometimes not be bothered to speak to each other at all. Shaking his head in amusement, he returned his attention back to his chore, leaving Marina swaying back and forth in front of the stove as she finished up. 

Before long the rest of the family had appeared, as loud and boisterous and exuberant as the Grimms tended to be. The Colonel was the last one through the door, offering his lover only a serene smile in answer to her concerned scolding. Bending, he pressed a sweet kiss to her pout, before moving to take his own place at the head of the table with Marina in the chair to his right. 

Dinner was a raucous affair, as per usual, with the exploits from the first day of school taking up most of the table's attention. In addition to Trystan, Jason and Casey's daughter Nadya, and Aaron and Marta's twins, Max and June, were attending the Sector school with the other Atrian children, while Natasha had insisted that her own Svetlana be home-schooled at least for another year. Steve and Gretel's daughter, Jamie Adrianna – named for Gretel's mother, the Grand White Witch Adrianna Kuhn, and Steve's best friend – was too young for school at three years old, but she nevertheless chimed in frequently with anecdotes about things she had done that day with her mother. 

Finally, Will spoke up over the cacophony. “How was your first day at Marshall, Roman?”

Roman grimaced in answer, earning a knowing hum from the Colonel. “I wish I could say it will be easier tomorrow, but I doubt it.” 

Minna grinned at her older brother, chuckling, “Don't worry about it, Will . . . Val, Kat and I have got him covered.”

Valya cheered at the statement, practically bursting out of her chair to confess, “You should have seen it, Daddy! Minna smoked that asshole! It was awesome!”

Marina groaned at the obscenity, though Hansel's eyebrow only cocked upwards at the announcement, asking, “Smoked who now?”

“His name is Eric, and he was harassing Roman, _Vati_. We protect our own, remember? You and Mama and Kee and Will taught me that,” Minna chirped innocently, batting her big blue eyes at her father who, as per usual, only sighed indulgently and scolded fondly, “We don't 'smoke' people, Minnow . . . no matter how much they may deserve it.”

“Kee does!”

“Because Kee has been doing it longer,” Maria chimed in, a smirk on her face as she took in her daughter's pout. 

Sighing unhappily, Minna agreed miserably, “Yes Mama.”

Glancing at her German husband, Maria cocked her head in question, earning a roll of the eyes and a nod. “Although, if you're smart and you don't get caught . . . your father and I guess it's okay sometimes. Especially if you're protecting one of our own.”

Bouncing in her chair excitedly, the oldest of the Trio cheered, “Thank you!”

“You're welcome, Minnow,” the former assistant director of S.H.I.E.L.D. agreed with a fond grin. “How's your homework coming?”

“Just a quick paper to work on before I go to bed, and I'll be done for the night.”

Valya slumped backwards in her own seat as she muttered viciously, “Fucking math.”

“Valya,” Marina warned in a low tone, her eyes narrowed.

“I promise . . . I am the one going to class, which is why the expletive is totally deserved. I hate math . . . why can't Katenka go for me? She likes math.”

“Because you are Valya and she is Katenka. And those two people are not the same person; as such, they should each do their own work.”

“Ugh . . . that sucks,” was the older twin's only reply to that admonishment. 

Marina chuckled as she cocked an eyebrow at her snickering lover, before turning her attention back onto her daughter. “Have you ever considered asking your father to tutor you?”

The Colonel cocked an eyebrow at his partner in return, even as his oldest perked up at the idea. “Wait . . . would you, Daddy? Please!?”

One corner cocked upwards in a half smile as Will teased, “You don't think that I don't have a million other things to do around Sector?”

Valya grinned as she sassed back, “No . . . at least nothing that's more important to you than me passing geometry this year!” 

“Considering you can't get into West Point with a failing grade, that is probably true,” the oldest Grimm laughed, leaning forward to reach for his beer. “And you did still have your heart set on West Point, right?”

“Yes sir!” came the simultaneous agreement from both of his twins and his baby sister. 

“Well then, I guess I'm going to have to tutor you then, hm? Do you have homework tonight?”

Valya rolled her eyes as she huffed, “A one page paper about my expectations for the semester, based off of the objectives and expectations listed in the class syllabus.”

“Sounds like something you can do on your own, yes?”

Nodding, she agreed, “It's kind of a lame assignment and mostly opinion anyway.”

“Good . . . because my night is already booked solid.”

His Russian's eyebrows went up as she inquired curiously, “Oh really? And what are your plans for tonight, exactly?”

His only reply was a wide grin and a sly wink, before turning his attention back onto where Owen was sitting next to him. Hot chocolate eyes narrowed as she watched her lover pointedly ignore her, before she shrugged and turned back to her children. “Seriously, though . . . how was the first day of school?”

“It wasn't bad. We hung out in the auditorium during free period. Kat got to dance and I got to play the piano. Minna spent the period doing her homework” – here Marina interrupted fondly, “Which is what free period is usually used for!” – “and Roman tried to avoid our teasing about Miss Emery.”

“Miss Emery?” was Casey's question from the other side of Marina, leaning forward to be able to see the kids. “Who's Miss Emery?”

Roman could feel his blush in his earlobes as Katenka grinned, teasing, “Emery Whitehill . . . apparently, Roman has a little bit of a crush on the girl that saved his life.”

“Saved his life? When was this?”

Ducking his head, the Atrian spoke up meekly, “On Arrival Day. I hid in her shed when the battle first started and was at its worst. She brought me a blanket and something to eat the next morning.”

The red haired assassin chimed in next from where she was sitting across from them, between her own husband, Brian and their pyromaniac, Svetlana. “Sounds like the beginning of a love story to me.”

“That's what **Katenka** said,” Valya agreed, grinning as she watched Roman's ears turned bright red. “But Roman insists he's not interested, although based on the way he was staring at her this morning, that is about as likely as a snowstorm in Miami Beach.” 

Marina couldn't help giggling at the betrayed way Roman was glaring at her daughter, before finally stepping in before the teenager's blushing made his head explode. “It's Roman's life, Val. Regardless of your opinion, if Roman says he's not interested, it is not your job to force the issue.”

“Maybe not, but as his annoying little sister, it is my job to tease him about it forever,” she argued with a nonchalant shrug and a wicked grin. 

Darcy giggled from her place between her lovers, as she joked, “I think I've heard that somewhere before.”

Immediately, Clint's eyebrow cocked upwards as he protested, “I have **never** said that!”

“Who said I was talking about you, Hawkass?” came the expected sass from the woman in reply. 

Bucky was chuckling as he lifted his glass of wine, joking, “I'm pretty sure she's talking about my sister, _khishchnick_.”

“How is your sister? We haven't heard from her in awhile. Did the new great-grandbaby come safely?”

“Mother and son are doing well, and Great-Grandma is hogging all the pictures, according to my nephew, Max,” the former Winter Soldier agreed with a smile and a wink. “Melody said to say thank you for the new crib you and Will sent, _uchenny_.”

“I'm just glad it got there in time. I was worried that it wouldn't,” the ever-mothering Russian replied with a roll of her eyes. 

Sam grinned from he and Aaron were arguing over the best sniper rifles for long range work, before teasing aloud. “Is there anyone you don't mother to death?”

“Seeing as none of you are dead . . . I'm fairly sure there's isn't anyone I **DO** 'mother to death',” she taunted in reply, tossing one of the rolls at her foster son's head. Snorting as he caught the roll and took a giant bite out of it, the woman stuck her tongue out at him playfully and burst into laughter when he returned the gesture, bread chunk on his tongue and all. 

Maria grinned as she leaned forward on her elbows, her beer bottle dangling from her fingers as she taunted, “Not from lack of trying.”

“Hush you . . .” Marina ordered her best friend fondly, struggling to glare at the other woman around her own laughter. “You don't seem to complain, when it's **you** I'm fussing over.”

“I'm your best friend; I know why you fuss over me. The Grimms are your boys; Trystan, Sam and Rene are your sons, my Minna is just as much your daughter as your daughters are mine; the Misfits are your babies; and then there's Ward . . . fucking Ward.”

“Okay . . . I thought we were over the Grant thing. I had good reasons!”

“That you didn't see fit to share with anyone else!!”

Will spoke up then, before the two women could devolve into the same argument they always did, regarding Grant Ward and the Deep Undercover, Black Op assignment Marina had given him . . . that saved countless lives and had given both women something to permanently disagree on. “Okay . . . moving on. Frankly, this argument has been beaten to death. Grant did good work . . . and more importantly, he did his job. He and Skye are happily married and he's as far from spy work as he could manage without going slowly insane. Let it lie . . . please, for the sake of everyone's sanity seated at this table. _Dong le ma_?”

“I don't even want to hear it from you, Will. Of course you take her side! You were the only one who knew!”

“Nick knew,” Marina reminded her best friend sharply, before both women fell silent at the silently disapproving looks on the faces of both their men. For a moment, silence reigned before Marina stuck her tongue out at her best friend and got the same in reply, allowing the two to dissolve into giggles and the argument to lie dead once more. “Anyway . . . I'm pretty sure we were originally talking about school.”

“Ugh . . . do we have to?” Valya moaned, banging her head against the table in misery. “Can't we talk about something else?!”

Vika's smile was amused over the rim of her glass as she announced calmly, “Yasha and _Fil_ will be here tomorrow afternoon.”

Will groaned wretchedly as Valya literally sprang from her seat with a cheer, doing an excited little dance in place before flopping back into her chair with a wide grin. “Finally! Jerk! It doesn't take that long to pack up an entire Tower's worth of shit, does it?”

“Valya . . . language,” was the only reply from her mother, as Vika chuckled, replying, “It took a lot longer than _Fil_ thought it would. I think he is kind of relieved that he is no longer the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. He was happiest as a handler; I think he will like being able to take over the administration office here at Sector.” 

“Good . . . because I am more than happy to let him do it. The both of you are administrative geniuses,” the Colonel announced with a relieved grin and a silent toast of his glass. “Please . . . take my paperwork. I will pay you both to do it for me!”

The blond Amazon laughed as she replied, “You **DO** pay me to do it for you.”

“ _Slava Bogu_ . . . I was thinking I'd forgotten a step there or something.”

“Nope . . . my bank account thanks you for your intense dislike of paperwork, trust me.”

Jason snorted lightly at the understatement as he muttered into his glass, “I bet it does.”

Casey nudged her husband lightly, even as she giggled at his statement; it had been a well known fact at S.H.I.E.L.D. that while the Chief Analyst would do his paperwork, the rest of the Grimms hated the very sight of it on principle. Manufacturing reports were frequently written in sloppy long-handed Cyrillic, especially if Jason was in a bad mood and just wanted to be a dick to whoever had to translate it. Also, as far as anyone knew, neither the Hawkeye, Agent Kitsom or Agent Gamble had ever turned in an action report on time, if they had turned it in at all. “Some of us actually like doing paperwork.”

“Which could be why I always conned you into doing our paperwork for me at the Second,” the technical specialist grinned, leaning over to nibble on his wife's neck. 

Fortunately, thirteen years of marriage, and fifteen years together, had clued Casey in on the nuances of her sometimes absent-minded husband's antics. Rolling her eyes, she snarked fondly, “I knew there was some reason that I avoided our desks after a case.”

Jason grinned around his mouthful of food, even as he returned his attention back onto his dinner. Turning to look at her sisters-in-law, Casey sighed, “Tech specialists . . . can't live with them without tripping over welding irons and can't kill them without wishing you hadn't. What's a girl to do, but suck it up?”

Leaning over, the middle Grimm blew a raspberry against her throat, earning a squeal of laughter and a sharp, “EW! Daddy zurr-bit-ted Mommy!” from their 12 year old, Nadya. 

“Just you wait, Midget. Daddy's gonna zurr-bit you too!” he threatened, shifting as though to get out of his chair. 

Squealing with laughter, Nadya was up and gone in a flurry of giggles, her laughing father only seconds off her heels. The long suffering former detective sighed as she got up from the table, announcing, “I should go make sure they don't break something.”

“If they do, it can be replaced, Case,” Marina reminded the other woman fondly. “Take a seat. They'll keep for the moment. Nadya adores Jay; they'll be fine.” Glancing around the table and seeing that almost everyone had finished eating, Marina stood from the table and began to gather dishes. Immediately, Will's eyes narrowed at his twin daughters, both of whom lunged to their feet with cheerful, “We'll do it, Mama!” 

The Russian cocked her head at her daughters, before relinquished the chore to them with a small smile. “Thank you, _moi lyubovi_.”

“Welcome!” Katenka agreed with a grin, as the younger twin leaned over to press a warm kiss to her mother's cheek. 

Cupping the girl's cheek in her palm, Marina trailed her thumb over the skin before moving to wrap her arms around her lover's neck. Nestling her cheek against his, she murmured lazily, “If the girls are cleaning up, I'm going to go read in the living room.”

Lifting one hand, the Colonel gripped her fingers and pressed a warm kiss to the tips of them. “Sounds good. Enjoy.”

He could feel her smile against his cheek as she nodded, before practically skipping off to the living room. Owen grinned at him as Will turned his attention back onto his best friend, teasing, “All right . . . what do you have planned for her?”

“Who said I have anything planned for tonight?”

“You having plans that don't include Marina is ridiculous. Especially since I know that there isn't anything you have to deal with right now. So what are you planning?”

Sipping his beer around his grin, the older man laughed, “None of your damned business, Lucky.”

Grunting, the former Cleaner joked, “Spoilsport. How am I supposed to live vicariously through you, if you don't confess all of your secrets to me?”

“May I suggest that it's long past time you found a girl?”

Winking cheerfully, Owen took a drink of his beer and the two longtime friends lapsed into companionable silence as the rest of the table continued to laugh and chat together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations: 
> 
> (G) Vati - Dad  
> (R) khishchnick - little hawk (literally "little bird of prey"; Bucky's nickname for Clint)  
> (R) uchenny - student, scholar (Bucky's nickname for his former protege, Marina Petrovka)   
> (C) Dong le ma? - Do you understand? (Quote from Firefly, the Grimm's favorite TV Show)  
> (R) Fil - Russian translation of Phil (Vika's husband is Phil Coulson)   
> (R) Slava Bogu - Thank God   
> (R) moi lyubovi - my loves  
> (R)


End file.
